


A Time for All Things

by Meri



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, post—hogwarts, pre-HBP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-01
Updated: 2004-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:43:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meri/pseuds/Meri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a time for all things, but sometimes you have to wait for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Time for All Things

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I acknowledge that I'm using, without permission, the characters and the world created by J K Rowling.  
>  I do this out of love for the characters and I swear I am not making any kind of profit from my writing.
> 
>  **Notes:** Thanks so much to my excellent betas: Jody, Justacat, Smaragd, and Marcelle

_To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose..._  
Ecclesiastes 3:1

 **Part 1: Time To Let Go**

As his office door opened, Severus Snape looked up from the pile of papers he was sorting through. Harry Potter sidled into his office without so much as a by your leave.

"It's considered customary to knock when you enter a room. Did you know that?" Snape kept his tone cold with unfreigned disdain. "You have no manners whatsoever, do you?"

"No, not many." Potter gave him an imbecilic grin. The expression set Snape's already frayed nerves further on edge.

"What do you want?" Snape snapped. That he failed to achieve his usual perfect tone of contempt could be forgiven: it had been a long year. Getting rid of Voldemort had taken a lot out of everyone, himself as well. All he wanted was a well-earned restful summer sans all distractions, present company most definitely included.

If he could convince the obnoxious brat that his presence was neither required nor wanted, he could get on with his planned relaxation. Unfortunately, anything to do with Potter was a very big if.

"Sir," Potter cleared his throat and stood up straighter. "I have something I want to tell you."

"I'm sure that you do, Mr. Potter. However, I'm equally sure that I have no desire to hear it." Snape smiled, showing his teeth. "Now that you are no longer a student, I don't have to. Get out."

"No. I've come to say this, and I will. You owe me that much."

Snape closed his eyes and took a calming breath. "I owe you nothing. However, as I am feeling generous, I will grant you one minute."

"Listen, I know you're doing this a matter of form. You don't mean it." Harry put his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "You've saved my life too many times for you to hate me. I think you stopped confusing me with my father a long time ago."

Figured that out, did he? Snape glared at him. He had no intention of discussing it with him, now or ever. "Why do you think this is significant in any way? Although I may not hate you, that does not mean that I like you. Get out."

"No." His tone was downright belligerent and certainly implacable. Potter squared his shoulders. Clearly he was not going to back down.

Leaning back in his chair, Snape folded his arms over his chest. It was a pity Potter was done with school; the threat of taking house points was such a lovely tactic for ensuring obedience. "I graciously gave you one minute. You've used it."

"I haven't." Harry looked pointedly down at his Muggle watch and smiled. "I still have at least thirty seconds left."

With a sigh, Snape wondered where he'd gone wrong. "Then say what you must, and leave me in peace."

"First off, I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me this year." Potter cleared his throat again. "For every year I've been here."

"My pleasure," Snape lied. It had been in his best interests to make sure the brat survived. If he hadn't, Snape was sure that he'd have heard about it from Albus for the rest of his life. A lifetime of listening to how he'd let the silly twit get himself killed did not bear thinking about. "You've said your piece. You may leave with a clear conscience."

"Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of me? What are you afraid I'll say?" That smirk really annoyed him.

Looking down his nose at Potter, Snape sneered as unpleasantly as he could. "If the truth be told, I fear you'll make some damned fool declaration of friendship or, God forbid, something worse."

"Would that be so bad?" Potter's eyes were filled with sincerity and longing. The same look he'd seen on Potter's face for the last few months. The same look he'd absolutely ignored. Nothing good could come of that look.

Oh, bloody hell, it was worse than he'd thought. "Yes, as a matter of fact, it would be akin to...." He had no words for just how much the thought horrified him.

"Akin to what?" Harry asked, his voice filled with hope.

Hope that Snape had every intention of crushing beneath his boot heel, so destroying any thought the idiot boy might have of his returning those feelings. "Akin to my worst nightmare. The only thing I could think of that would be worse would be Longbottom standing in your shoes right now."

Harry smiled in a way that would have been engaging had it been anyone else. "You didn't save his life quite that often. I doubt he would be here."

"I should hope not." Snape shuddered at the thought. "Even he isn't stupid enough to misread saving his life for anything more than that."

"Why can't you admit it? I've seen you looking at me, just like I look at you."

"Do you never cease to ask asinine questions?" God, how could he get rid of the boy before he said something he might have to respond to?

"It's served me well so far."

"Go away, Mr. Potter. I'm tired. I want to clean up my desk and go to bed."

"I want to say what I came here to say." If Potter had been as dogged in his studies, he would have done much better in school.

"Then do so and stop wasting my time. I've had enough of you." More than enough to last him the rest of his life and on into the next one, or so he'd been trying to convince himself for the last several months.

"Well, I haven't had enough of you. Not by a long shot."

"Good Lord." His eyes met Potter's and he watched him take a step closer to the desk. If he had been standing, he would have been hard pressed not to step back. "Don't be a fool."

"Too late," Potter said, putting a hand over Snape's.

He tried to pull back, but Potter's grip tightened.

"You don't want to do this, Mr. Potter. You'll be making a fool of yourself. Not that it would be the first time, but I'd rather not be a party to it, if you don't mind."

"I do mind. If I'm making a fool of myself, then you shall be helping me do it."

"I don't think so. Let me go." Standing up, Snape immediately realized he'd made a strategic mistake as Potter drew closer, coming around the desk. Too close. He could smell the aftershave Potter used, something spicy and rich smelling.

"I don't think I'll let you go at all." Potter's face was flushed, but his eyes were direct and forthright. It was clear he knew what he wanted.

Snape shook his head. "No."

"Yes." Potter was standing right before him.

To Snape's surprise, Potter could almost look him in the eyes. When had the impertinent brat got so tall? "Do you never listen?"

Potter had the gall to smirk. "Sometimes. When it suits me, I take orders very well."

Snape tried to take a step back, but found himself pinned against his desk. Swallowing back the urge to panic, Snape wondered when exactly he had lost control of the situation. Oh, yes, he remembered now. He was trying to be kind, trying not to hurt the ungrateful whelp. He should really have known better.

As Potter's fingers softly moved across his jaw, Snape's eyes snapped open. When had he closed them? "Don't," he whispered, intending to stop this nonsense once and for all, but much to his horror, it came out sounding much more like a plea than the order he'd intended it to be.

"Too late." Potter kissed him.

Someone, somewhere, had taught the brat to kiss. Taught him very well, all the nuances and subtleties of kissing. All the sweetness and the lushness and the softness. All of the things Snape savored in a kiss: a hand holding his face, the other buried in his hair, Potter's body pressed close to his. The heat and passion were tangible and real.

When he pulled back, Potter met his eyes, his pupils huge and dilated. Then Potter leaned in again and kissed him deeper, pressing Snape's mouth open with his tongue and swirling it inside.

One hand fell to Snape's waist and held on, pulling him closer, moving across his back.

Because he was unable to do otherwise, Snape groaned, and opened his mouth wider. There was a reason he should not be doing this, but for the life of him, he could not think of what it was. He delved deeper into Potter's mouth, savoring the forbidden taste.

Forbidden?

Bloody Hell.

Snape pulled completely away, bending over slightly to catch his breath. "No."

Putting an arm across Snape's shoulder, Potter attempted to draw him back into his embrace.

"I said no." He didn't sound sure. But he was. He knew he mustn't do this. Why did the misbegotten child have to kiss like that?

"Why not? I could tell you were enjoying it. That you wanted me."

"What? Because I had an erection? Do you have any idea how long it has been since I--" he cut himself off. What a fool he was to say that much. Looking away, he forced himself to be calm. "I want you to leave now."

Potter glared at him, looking like the over-indulged brat that he was. "I want you to tell me why you stopped."

Glaring back at him, Snape let a nasty little smile play across his lips. "What did you expect me to do, Mr. Potter. Throw you across my desk and fuck you? Would you like that?"

"I would. Or you could let me do that to you." Potter's mouth twitched and his eyes had a twinkle that would have done Albus proud. It was clear that he liked that idea, too.

"Not bloody likely." The image, however, seared itself into Snape's mind, tormenting him with lurid details he feared he would not forget anytime soon. He couldn't suppress a shiver. "You've had your--"

Moving quicker than Snape would have given him credit for, Potter pinned him to the wall, pressing his body against him and kissing him deeply. Before he could think about it, Snape responded, pressing back, opening his mouth, sucking on Potter's tongue. Moaning softly.

Potter's mouth worked his slowly, expertly, delving in and then retreating. Snape found himself responding in kind. He tightened his arms, and drew Potter closer, feeling the length of his body against him.

In short order he was ready to surrender to the inevitability of Potter's arms, ready to let himself be taken across his own desk. Merlin, what was wrong with him? Why couldn't the damned boy listen to him?

Boy. He groaned.

Putting both hands flat on Potter's chest, he pushed until there was space between them. "I've said no. Twice now. Which part of that did your dull-witted brain not understand?" His voice was low, with no conviction in it.

"Your body says yes." Potter looked smug. "I know you want me."

"Be that as it may, I do not wish to do this."

"Why? I'm not a student anymore. No one will care." Potter's hands reached out again and this time, Snape did take a step back.

"I will care."

"Why?" Potter stepped close again, and Snape tried not to be obvious as he inhaled the spicy scent of him. Leaning close, Potter kissed him again.

It was even better than the last time. Hotter, richer, more intoxicating. Snape had given up trying to understand why he was responding so strongly. He suspected he would not like the answer at all. Opening his mouth, he promised himself he would end this obscenity as soon as he had one more taste.

A small one.

Summoning what little willpower he had left, he pulled back, his breath ragged. "I beg you, Mr. Potter. Do not make me do this."

"You want it. You're this close to giving in." He held up his fingers less than a centimeter apart.

Since there was no way he could lie now, he nodded. "Yes." Snape took another deep breath and stepped away from Potter. "However, it would not be right."

Shaking his head, Potter breathed out heavily. "Why? I want you. You want me. I don't see the problem."

"Of course not," Snape said, annoyed. There were times when he wondered how Potter made it through school without any deductive reasoning skills whatsoever. "Use what little brain you have and think about this: I'm your teacher."

Shaking his head, Potter's expression was obstinate. "You're not any longer. I've finished school."

On the verge of agreeing that Potter had finished school, Snape shook his head, trying to clear it. Why couldn't he think straight, Snape wondered. "It doesn't matter. I can't do this."

"I could make you." Potter stepped close again. Although his eyes gleamed with barely suppressed passion, he did not reach out.

For which Snape was more than grateful. Just being this close to him was making Snape vibrate with tension. Merlin, the brat smelled good. And tasted even better. And he would feel so good under -- he cut that off before it could go any farther. "Yes. Undoubtedly, you could. But what would you have? A single night. If you force the issue, that's all it will ever be."

"No. I don't want a single night." Potter didn't step back, but the strain between them eased somewhat. "I want to understand why not." The irritating tone had been replaced with one pleading to understand.

Snape met Potter's gaze. "You are still my student. Despite having left my class for the last time. It would be wrong. You are only seventeen."

"You keep saying that. As if it's something awful."

"Not awful, Mr. Potter, simply young. I'm thirty-eight. Twenty-one years older than you are. I'm the same age that your father would have been, had he lived."

"I can do the math, sir. Do you think I don't know what I want?"

"Yes. That is exactly what I think. How can you possibly know what you want at so young an age?" At seventeen, he'd joined the Death Eaters and Voldemort, thinking he'd known all there was to know of the world. In truth, he'd known little more than Potter did.

"I'm not you."

Snape wondered what his eyes had given away. "Be that as it may, I do not believe you have any idea what you want. You don't know anything."

"What? How can you say that? I'm not a child."

"No. I will grant that you are not a child as many of your classmates still are. But you are uneducated, and unworldly." When Potter's eyes flashed with ire, Snape held up a hand. "You've seen nothing of the greater wizarding world. You done nothing beyond attend this school and fight a dreadful evil at far too young an age."

That stubborn look crept onto Potter's face. "That means what exactly?"

"It means, Mr. Potter, that you can't stay here. That you must go out and do something else with your life."

"I'm going to. But--" Potter looked away.

"What did you plan then?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you'd--"

"What, go with you?" Snape gave him a disbelieving look. "Is that what you want?"

"I love you." Potter held both his hands out, as if offering himself. "I was hoping for something lasting for a long while, if not permanently."

The tension in his back rocketed up several notches, and he could not look at Potter. "Oh really? What's in it for me?"

"I would have thought that was obvious."

Snape frowned. Potter was young enough to think that what he had to offer might be a deciding factor. Snape was old enough to know it wouldn't be. "You're going to go off and see the world, and I'm going to do what?"

"You could come with me. Show it to me." His confident tone slipped a little.

Shaking his head, Snape found he couldn't even sneer at him. "Don't be foolish, Mr. Potter. You could hardly expect me to follow you around the world as your groupie. I think it should be obvious to even you that my temperament would not lend itself to that role.

"I guess not." Harry looked at him. "When can I come back?"

"When you've seen the world."

"That's all?" Clearly, he thought it could be done easily enough.

"No. Find something meaningful to do with your life. Play Qudditch professionally, be an Auror, work for Gringotts, open a shop, whatever you choose."

"All of that?"

Snape sighed. "At least some of it."

"I'll do that, then." Potter met his eyes, and the look in them sent a chill up his spine. "I will come home again, sir. You can bet on that."

"I think it's time you left." He gave him something that might have passed for a smile. "You've got a lot to do."

Deliberately, Potter stepped up to him again, his arm sliding around Snape's waist. He leaned in and kissed him softly. "All right. You win -- but just for now. I--"

"Do not make promises." Because Snape knew he might believe them and he'd rather not have hope. It would be easier to live with nothing, if -- no, _when_ \-- Potter settled down with someone else. "I do not want them."

Potter looked like he might argue for a moment, but then he breathed out and took a step back. "We could have been good together. I know it."

"Perhaps." Snape knew they would have been.

"I can't believe you would rather not know."

Because not knowing lessened the disappointment when it ended. But telling Potter that, trying to explain, would be humiliating, not to mention useless. He simply didn't have the capacity to understand yet. Snape nodded towards the door, hoping he'd take the hint.

Potter stepped back again and then walked to the door. Looking back over his shoulder, Potter said. "Next time, I'm not going to take no for an answer."

Snape said nothing

Potter closed the door behind him.

"There won't be a next time," Snape said, breathing out slowly, and sitting back down at his desk. He touched his mouth with a finger. "Would that it were not so."

* * *

 **Part 2: Time to grieve**

Hermione and Ron were waiting at the gates of Hogwarts when Harry Apparated. It had been only a little over a year since he'd completed school, but now he was back for a reason that broke his heart.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, hugging him. "I can't believe he's gone."

As he held her, her slim shoulders started to shake. "I know. I can't believe it either. What happened? How? I got your owl, but I still don't understand what happened."

"I don't know exactly, either," she said against his shoulder. "Dumbledore was feeling ill about a week ago, and then suddenly he was gone. No one knows what happened."

"Was it natural? I mean..." Harry trailed off, hating even to bring the possibility up, but even eighteen months after Voldemort's defeat, there were still plenty of Death Eaters out there. Certainly enough to keep the ministry and a whole staff of Aurors busy.

"As far as Madam Pomfrey can tell, it was." Hermione sighed. "I've read that when a wizard or witch is old like Dumbledore was, he can just let go. It was very quick."

"Then he didn't suffer much?"

Hermione shook her head again. "No. From what Madam Pomfrey said, it was peaceful."

Taking a shuddering breath, Harry nodded. "I still can't believe it."

"I know." Hermione stepped back, out of his arms.

He turned and was embraced by Ron.

"Bloody hell, mate, did you get taller again?" Harry asked as he pulled back, holding Ron at arm's length. From second year onward, Ron had always been taller, and now he towered over Harry.

"Yeah, I think I added on another inch or so." Ron chuckled, putting a hand on Harry's head. "You didn't, though did you?"

"I'm not likely to get much taller." Harry grinned up at him. "Bad diet as a kid."

"You know, Harry, they might be able to fix that," Hermione said. "I was reading the other day that they are doing wonderful work with fixing those kinds of problems."

Harry didn't mind his height so much as he minded the reason for it, what it represented, and that was not something that could be changed by magic or anything else. Making a conscious effort, he let his anger go. "It's okay. I'm sort of used to it by now. I'm not that short, anyway. He's just over-tall."

Ron laughed, and then sobered as they heard another crack of Apparition. "People have been arriving all day."

Remus Lupin had arrived, and with him was Nymphadora Tonks. Lupin's robes were less tattered than usual, though they hardly looked new. That rather surprised Harry since he knew that Remus could certainly afford new robes. Both he and Tonks worked on a special ministry task force dealing with the dark wizards left over from Voldemort's reign of terror. Remus must prefer the shabby look.

Tonks, on the other hand, had not lost her flair for the dramatic. Her hair was jet-black with pure white highlights and she wore a bright pink robe worthy of Dumbledore.

Harry smiled as they approached. Remus hugged him and he returned the embrace, closing his eyes against sudden remembered pain. Seeing Remus invariably reminded Harry of Sirius. Even after three years, he still missed his godfather with an ache that was tangible. He suspected Remus did, too.

"It's been too long since we've seen you, Harry," Remus breathed against his hair, his arms tightening around Harry. "You've been away too long."

"I know." He'd missed Remus so much. "I owled."

"So, how was seeing the world?" Tonks asked as she took over from Remus, squeezing him tightly.

Hermione gave him a smile as they all started towards the castle. "Yes, I want to hear all about it. Don't you, Ron?"

"I heard about Egypt already from Bill. He's here, along with Charlie, and Ginny." Ron clapped him on the back and Harry almost stumbled from the force of it. He glared at Ron and then they both laughed.

"Well, Ginny just finished a few weeks ago, didn't she?" Harry asked, pushing open the castle door, and holding it while everyone passed through. Closing his eyes, he was assailed by hundreds of memories of the years he'd spent here. He felt peace settle over him. He was home again.

"Yes. Was Head Girl, too." Ron sounded very proud.

As well he should be, Harry thought. Ginny had done well for herself. she'd been accepted into a prestigious mediwitch program, without their knowing her NEWT scores,

"Following the family tradition," Remus said, smiling at Ron, who had also been Head Boy.

"All except..." Ron trailed off and took a breath, his expression pained.

George and Fred. Everyone was silent for a moment. Harry felt a pang in his chest. The twins had died in the last battle with Voldemort, sacrificing themselves for the children of Hogwarts in the particularly showy fashion that had become their trademark in life. They had been posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin for their efforts. Everyone agreed they would have loved all the attention.

As Harry watched, Hermione slipped her hand into Ron's and squeezed it. Then, surprisingly, she left it there. Harry clearly had some catching up do to, didn't he?

* * *

The atmosphere inside the school was subdued. Minerva McGonagall had taken over as acting Headmistress and had arranged for the members of the Order to stay at the school as guests. People gathered in small groups in the Great Hall, talking in hushed tones about Dumbledore. Late that night, after most everyone else had gone to bed, Hermione, Ron and Harry sat in a corner, chatting quietly.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione took a bite of her biscuit and handed one to Ron and another to him.

The house elves had outdone themselves with the sweets and cakes for those visiting. Harry snagged another off the plate. "Everywhere. I sent you an owl from most of the places I passed through."

"I know. I just wanted to hear about it. Are you going to travel more?"

"No." He had other plans, but he wasn't ready to discuss them yet. "I'm going to be here for a while."

"Good. You know Mum and Dad want you to stop and see them at the Burrow for a few days?" Ron sighed. "They'll be up tomorrow."

"I will." In a way, they were as close to parents as Harry had ever had. "I've missed them."

"You know they missed you."

"So, when did this happen?" Harry asked, nodding to Hermione's hand which had found its way into Ron's again.

Surprisingly, Ron blushed and looked away. "You knew about --"

"You?" Harry paused and looked at Hermione. "I knew how you both felt, was waiting for either of you to buy a clue."

Ron chuckled, and leaned his head toward Hermione. "Well, we did. It's sort of been going on--"

"And off," Hermione added.

"Since seventh year."

"Seventh year?" Harry wondered just how he'd missed that so completely. Of course, during seventh year he had been distracted with defeating Voldemort, not to mention his emerging feelings for someone everyone else would have considered inappropriate.

"Are you okay with it, Harry?" Hermione met his eyes, and he could see she was serious.

Must have been quiet for too long, he supposed. With a nod, he gave her an evil grin. "Why wouldn't I be? It's not like I'm interested in you."

"As if," she said with a laugh, but she sobered and then her eyes darted to Ron.

"Not bloody likely," Harry snorted. Despite the fact that Ron was a good looking bloke and that he loved Ron dearly, it was as a brother. Harry felt no pull towards him sexually whatsoever. Considering that Ron was going with Hermione, that was a good thing.

"What?" Ron looked at Harry and then Hermione, a perplexed expression settling on his face. "You both used to do that all the time -- look at each other and smile like that. What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Really." Harry was trying very hard not to laugh. The idea of it. He probably should have told Ron about his preferences a long time ago, but it was awkward, and since he'd been something of a late bloomer anyway, the subject had never come up.

Ron's face turned red. "Tell me."

"Ron, let it go." Hermione gave him an exasperated look.

"No." Folding his arms over his chest, Ron glared at them. "Tell me what you were just talking about. Now."

"Fine." Harry glared back at him, but they both knew there was no real anger in there.. "Hermione asked me if I was interested in you, and I said no."

"Me?" Comprehension dawned in Ron's blue eyes, followed closely by anger - real this time. Or perhaps it was hurt. "You never said. Why didn't you tell me?"

Harry looked away. "Before seventh year, I didn't really recognize what it meant, and then I hoped it would go away. I wanted to be normal so much. "

"Oi. That is normal. Or are you saying my brother Bill isn't normal?" Ron was tone was light, but clearly he was ready to defend his brother's honor.

"No. Of course, he's not saying that." Hermione hit Ron on the arm. "Give Harry a break."

"It's okay." Harry smiled at her. "When I realized I was in love with someone, there was no more denying it." Both Ron and Hermione gave him a startled look.

"Who was it?" Ron's eyes were compassionate and more than a little curious. "Did you tell him?"

"I can't say." He held up his hand to forestall any more questions. "Yes, I did tell him and he rejected me." It would be far too complicated to explain about what Snape had actually said. It was hard enough to be here, now. Thinking about seeing him again made Harry's stomach clench with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

Ron looked at Hermione. "You knew about this? About who it was?"

"I knew about Harry being gay, yes. I guessed that early on and he confirmed it. I didn't know who he...." She looked at him with a question in her eyes, but she didn't ask.

"Who I was in love with," Harry finished for her. Then sighed. "Still am." Bloody Hell, but he hated the sound of his voice as he said it. He knew they could hear the pain in the words and he didn't want their pity.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione put her hand over his, her expression soft and sympathetic. "Is there no hope at all?"

"Who is it?" Ron squared his shoulders. "I'll have a little talk with him. No one hurts my mate and gets away with it."

That made him smile. He had such good friends. "Thanks, but no. It's not required that he love me back. He was...." Harry shrugged. Kind didn't sound like the right word, but Snape could have crushed him and he hadn't, so maybe it was. He was grateful for small favors. "He tried not to hurt me."

"Who? I'm serious, mate. I want you to tell me." Ron looked so determined that Harry had to laugh.

"I'm not saying, okay? Just let it go. How's your course going at university?" Harry turned to Hermione, looking pleadingly at her as he attempted to change the subject.

"It's going really well. I'm taking this advanced Transfigurations class...." She went on to describe the class in detail. Harry shared a smile with Ron and watched as his eyes glazed over, knowing his own must look the same.

"...Harry?" Hermione said. "You haven't heard a word I've said." She looked accusingly at Ron. "Either of you."

"Well, I've heard you talk about it before this." Ron didn't look terribly worried about her reaction.

She huffed at them and opened her mouth to retort when there was a noise at the other end of the hall. All three of them turned to watch Snape sweep in, robes billowing perfectly. Harry wondered if he had to practice those flawless dramatic entrances.

As Snape approached them, Harry's heart started to pound, and his breath caught hard in his chest. The man hadn't changed at all. Still as tall, dark, and spectacular as he'd ever been. Harry wanted him so badly that his gut literally ached at the sight of him.

Snape stopped and looked at them, smirking slightly. "Ten points from Gryffindor for being out of your dorm after lights out."

"Oi!" Ron stood up, folding his arms over his chest. He was taller than Snape, too. "You can't take house points from Gryffindor. We're not students anymore."

"Can't I? I'm sure that I could, if I wished to." Snape's tone was as sneering as it had ever been, but there was an amused light in his eyes. "It's quite late. Tomorrow will be a long day. You should find your beds."

Without waiting for an answer, he swept back out, robes flaring around him.

Sitting back down, Ron looked at Hermione and then at him. "Blimey. What just happened?"

He and Hermione looked at each other. With a shrug of his shoulders, Harry tried to shut out the multitude of unresolved feelings Snape's appearance had engendered. "Maybe it's different now we're not his students." Snape's startling behavior couldn't be for the reason he wanted to believe, he knew it couldn't. It had to be something else, but what exactly, Harry had no idea.

Shaking her head, Hermione stared after Snape. "I don't think I've ever seen him be pleasant to anyone."

"Hermione," Ron said, also staring at the door Snape disappeared through. "That wasn't pleasant."

"It was as close as Snape is likely to come." Far closer than Harry ever expected to see or hear. "Maybe he's upset over Dumbledore."

Nodding slowly, Hermione turned back to look at Harry. "That would make sense. Dumbledore was the only person Snape tolerated at all."

As much as he didn't want to leave his friends, he also didn't want to even think about the subject of Snape. He forced a yawn. "Maybe we should go up to bed. It's going to be so weird staying in the dorm again."

"It will be." Ron agreed and grinned at Hermione. "Except, I'm going to be sharing the room with you instead of Harry."

"Ron!" Hermione's face colored.

Harry laughed and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. "It's not like I didn't know. I've always heard that people in love did those kinds of things."

"Tell you a secret, mate. You don't have to be in love to do those kinds of things." Ron laughed and stood too, holding his hand out to Hermione.

Opening his eyes wide, Harry batted them at Ron. "Really? I didn't know that. I would never do such a thing."

"Of course not," Hermione said, taking Ron's hand.

* * *

Harry had been asked to speak at the funeral. He was pleased with himself that he'd made it through his short eulogy without crying, although his voice broke at least once. Talking about what a great wizard Albus Dumbledore had been seemed redundant. Everyone there knew or should have known that already.

Snape was also among those asked to speak, and his voice never wavered once. Part of Harry admired his ability to control himself and another part wondered that he could do so.

As he sat with his friends and family at the wake that followed, Ron was not so charitable. "Did you see him?" Ron's voice was a loud hiss. "He didn't look like he cared at all."

Hermione took a drink of her ale and nodded. "I would have thought he'd show some emotion. Professor Dumbledore was supposed to be his friend."

"His only friend, very likely," Ron growled, seemingly indignant that Snape dared seem so in control, especially since Ron, like almost everyone else in attendance, had cried. "If he even cared, which I don't think he did."

As much as it was a wake, and as much as he would have liked to have got pissed, he wasn't going to. Harry raised his glass to his mouth, sipping his ale slowly. "I think Snape is more controlled. Probably can't express it very well. I managed not to cry."

"I agree with Harry," Remus put in quietly. "I think Severus is very controlled."

"I think Harry's right, too. Severus might not know how to express his grief," Tonks added, running a hand through her purple and pink spikes.

"I don't care," Ron said, not letting it go. Harry thought Ron was looking for target for his grief, and Snape seemingly made a safe one, since most people barely tolerated him. "The man is a greasy git. Couldn't he even wash his hair?"

Except that Harry wasn't going to let it go either. "It didn't look that bad to me," Harry said. To him, Snape's hair hadn't looked any more greasy than it ever did, though his complexion had looked paler than usual.

"I don't know what you're thinking. The man is a total bastard." Ron finished his glass and stood. "Anyone else want another one?"

"He is a bastard, but I don't think he's an unfeeling one," Remus said, standing too. "I'll help you. Another round for everyone?"

Harry thought he'd had enough to drink by now, but nodded anyway. Actually, going to bed seemed like a better idea to him, but he didn't think he'd be able to get away just yet. Leaving would only give him time to think about too many things he'd rather not think about. He missed Dumbledore.

"Are you going to go talk to him?" Tonks put a hand on his and startled him back to the present. "Severus, I mean."

"Why would he do that?" Hermione asked. "I mean... Harry, would you?"

Panic seized him and he looked around frantically for an escape. How could anyone know about his feelings? He hadn't ever told anyone. But there was Tonks, looking at him expectantly. "What are you talking about?" he stammered, his voice rising and then falling ridiculously.

At least, Tonks had the good grace to blush and look abashed. She sputtered, "I'm sorry. I thought... I'm wrong. Right?"

"Right," Harry lied, but he could feel the blush start before he could do anything to control it.

"Harry?" Hermione looked at him, hard, and then of course, she knew. Because she always knew. "Oh, no. No."

He supposed he should be grateful that he'd kept it from her as long as he had. "No. Okay? Just no."

"I'm sorry." Tonks looked down. "I mean, I should never--"

Harry shook his head. He could not do this. He didn't want anyone's pity. "Don't say it. Okay? Don't say anything. Just shut up." Harry didn't want to be rude, but damn that woman was like a bull in a china shop. If there was some way she could trip on something she would. "How did you ever get to be an Auror?"

"Harry!" Hermione looked scandalized and Tonks looked hurt. Tears filled her big eyes.

Bloody Hell. Harry felt like a right stupid after that. "I'm sorry, Tonks. I just didn't want anyone to know. I don't know how you guessed."

"I--"

"No. Please," he begged, looking at her appealingly. "Don't tell me how I gave myself away." Harry drained the last of his ale. "I'm going to bed." He didn't wait for an answer from either of them.

Out in the great hall, he went in the wrong direction. Deliberately or not, he ended up on his way down to the dungeons. As he walked along the quiet corridors toward Snape's office, the sound of glass breaking startled him enough to make him jump. Another crash followed the first one and then another.

Sprinting toward the sound, Harry paused at the open entrance to Snape's office before cautiously looking around the corner. Snape was standing in the middle of the room, throwing glass jars at his fireplace and swearing softly.

Thinking himself a fool, but unable to stop himself, Harry stepped into the open doorway and cleared his throat.

Snape rounded on him, his eyes blazing with rage and grief and something else that he could not identify. "What the bloody hell are you doing here, Mr. Potter?"

For a second, Harry had to search for an answer. "I...." He took a deep breath. "I came down to see if you were all right."

"I'm fine. Get out." Some of the rage left Snape's face, leaving him paler than usual. It crossed Harry's mind that if Ron could see him now, he'd have no doubts about Snape's emotions.

"You don't look fine." Harry nodded toward the pile of broken glass and the spilled potions, which were slowly flowing together to form a multi-colored puddle. "Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

Snape's eyes narrowed and his expression got harder as he seemed to gain more control. "Don't be stupid. I'm a Potions Master. I know what to break and what not to break."

"Maybe you should stop. That is a lot of work you're wasting."

"What I do in my own office is none of your concern, you imbecilic twit. Go away."

Torn by indecision, and his own caring, Harry hesitated. He should probably acquiesce to Snape's request for privacy. But being alone did not appeal at all, and he was loathe to leave Snape. Squaring his shoulders, he looked back at Snape. "I'll help you clean this up."

"Can't you get it through your mentally deficient brain that I don't need or want your help?" Snape was as sneeringly disdainful as ever, but there was something in his tone that suggested the opposite.

So despite the harsh words, Harry decided to take a chance that maybe Snape didn't want to be alone either. Stepping fully into the room, he waved his wand and gathered all the broken glass into the rubbish bin. "There. That's better."

"Don't you ever listen to anyone?" Snape snarled, picking another glass jar off the shelf and throwing it at the wall. This one left a long green stain, which dripped slowly down and then pooled on the floor. Merlin, but it smelled awful.

With a chuckle, Harry shook his head. "Not so that you'd notice, no."

"How are you going to play Quidditch without obeying the rules? Or do you still think they don't apply to you?"

"As I've said before, I can follow rules when I have to." He grinned at Snape. "Or want to." Then what he said just penetrated. "How did you know? I haven't even told Hermione and Ron, yet."

Snape smirked at him. "I'm the teacher. I always know."

Harry could only shake his head, unwillingly charmed despite himself. "I expect so."

"Will you leave me alone now?" All the rancor gone from his request, Snape sounded tired and disheartened.

"You know, I can't cry either." Harry looked down at his scuffed shoes, and concentrated on the words. "I never have."

"At all?" Snape's expression showed his surprise. "I can't believe that, Mr. Potter. Everyone cries. It's human nature."

"Do you? Have you?" Looking back up at Snape, he found he wanted to know the answer desperately. He could not imagine Snape allowing himself to be that vulnerable.

"Although you may not believe it, I am human, Mr Potter," Snape said almost defensively, but he wouldn't make eye contact. Harry wondered if he weren't embarrassed by the admission.

"I know you're human. I'm human, too. But I don't." Yet Harry still felt things intensely. So even if Snape couldn't express it, Harry believed Snape must feel things deeply as well."

"Why not?" Mildly asked, especially for Snape. There was only simple curiosity in the question. For whatever reason, Snape seemed to really want to know.

Harry would have liked to give him a real answer. But he knew that any explanation he gave would sound pathetic and too much like a bid for attention. "Because I never have."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Snape seemed to be waiting for more. But when Harry remained silent he visibly withdrew. "If you don't wish to talk about this, you should not have brought it up," Snape said, sounding annoyed.

There was something surreal about the whole conversation. Harry took a deep breath. "You know, I'm going to miss Dumbledore, so much."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, and then nodded without opening them. After a moment, he opened his eyes and turned on Harry, folding his arms over his chest and scowling. "I think it's time for you to leave now, Mr. Potter." Without waiting for Harry to do anything, he smashed several more bottles on the floor.

Harry jumped, startled by the sudden resumption of violence. "I don't want to be alone."

Three more jars hit the ground, landing right at Harry's feet, but he managed not to flinch. "You have many friends who will see to you. Go to them."

"No." Harry couldn't leave yet, even knowing that he should, that he was pushing Snape too hard. He could not bring himself to leave.

Sighing hugely, Snape turned away from him, staring at the wall, his back ruthlessly straight. "Please. Go." He heard the break in Snape's voice and a shiver of concern stretched through him.

Cursing himself for being a fool, for letting Snape's pain overrule his common sense, Harry took a tentative step forward. "I want --"

"Did it never--" Snape stopped and took an audible breath. "Did it never occur to you that I might not wish your presence or help?"

"I don't think you want to be alone right now. I've already said that I don't want to be."

"What do you expect from me?" His shoulders stiffened even more, and Snape kept his back to Harry. "I have nothing to give you."

"Maybe," Harry said, approaching him, finally. He honestly didn't care if Snape ridiculed him for this, it wouldn't be the first time. "Maybe I can give you something."

"I--" Snape stepped closer to the wall, as if he felt Harry's approach and wanted to avoid it. "I don't--" He took another breath and let it out, falling silent.

Putting a hand on Snape's shoulder from behind, Harry could feel every one of Snape's muscles freeze. A fine trembling started through Snape's body. "Let me help."

"No. Don't do this." The words had no conviction behind them; indeed, in them Harry could hear a plea that broke his heart.

He slid his arms around Snape's waist. Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the lank hair at the nape of his neck, holding on as tightly as he could. Snape's hands came up, touching Harry's arms hesitantly. He was half afraid that Snape would try to push him away, but he didn't. Instead his thin, stained fingers gripped Harry's arm, tightly.

They stood together for a long time, holding on tightly, both of them breathing harshly.

"This changes nothing between us, Mr. Potter," Snape said finally, breaking the silence of the moment. "Nothing."

"I understand." Harry didn't understand, but he accepted it, accepted that it had to be this way for now. "I'm not asking again."

"Good. I am very tired." Snape made no move to step out of Harry's arms. He leaned his head back against Harry's head and simply stood there, in his arms, seeming to soak up whatever comfort Harry could offer him.

"When do you leave?" Snape asked, with a deep sigh sometime later.

The question startled him in its normality and he answered automatically. "Tomorrow afternoon."

"I will not see you again before that." Snape's hands moved along Harry's arm in a slow sweet caress.

Harry knew that Snape did not intend it to be sexual, but a shudder ran through him nonetheless. "You could--"

"No." Snape dropped his hands and moved.

Reluctantly, Harry let him go. As Snape turned around, Harry pretended not to notice the wet tracks on his face. Daring greatly Harry brought a hand to Snape's pale cheek, stroking once with his thumb before nudging him down for a gentle kiss.

As their lips met a second time, Harry felt desire spark along all of his nerves. It would be so easy to push things, to take what he wanted, but he knew it would be wrong, especially tonight. He settled for a few more soft kisses and then stepped back.

"Shall I?" He held up his wand.

"No, Mr. Potter. I think I can clean up my own mess this time." Snape's expression was wry and self-deprecating. With a wave of his wand, the whole mess was gone. "I think it's time for you to leave."

"All right." Harry leaned up and took one more kiss, which Snape didn't seem to mind giving him. "I'll go now."

Snape nodded, but said nothing as Harry crossed back to the open door.

Looking back over his shoulder, Harry saw that Snape was watching him closely, his face guarded. There would come a time, Harry promised himself, when he wouldn't have to walk away. For now, he did, and he would. While he wasn't the most patient person in the world, he could wait for what he wanted. He did have a few other things to keep him occupied until then.

* * *

 **Part 3 - Time to Play Games**

Harry dropped a towel around his neck as he headed off the pitch for the last time. His professional Qudditch career was at an end. It had been a good run, and there was nothing like winning his last game, even if didn't help his team's standing much. He'd done his best. Hard to believe two years had passed so quickly.

Hermione and Ron were going to meet him for a late dinner and to catch up. With how hectic the season had been, almost six months had passed since he'd last seen either of them. He exchanged owls with them frequently, and spoke to them when he could, but it wasn't the same as seeing them.

The atmosphere in the locker room was subdued. The season was over and they had not come close to making the play-offs. No doubt their coach would have a few words to say at their last meeting in the morning, but for now, no one said much.

"Potter?" Jayell Thomas poked her head around the "boys" side of the room. "You've got a visitor out here."

"Who?" It had to be someone he knew and approved of, because fans could not get close enough to get through to the guard.

"I don't know. Some wizard dressed all in formal black with tons of buttons on his coat. Scary looking."

Snape? "Tell him I'll be out in a few minutes," Harry said, pleased that his voice didn't sound nearly as shaky as he felt.

A jittery feeling settled in his belly. Snape had sought him out. Refusing to give in to the hope that maybe, maybe Snape had reconsidered, he rushed through dressing. He took a minute to run his fingers through his over-long hair - he'd been meaning to get it cut, but he hadn't had the time. Nothing could be done about it now.

He hurried out.

"Professor?" he said, finding Snape waiting for him the deserted hall.

"Potter, you coming to the end of season party?" Brandon called out.

It was also his unofficial going away party. Given how the season had gone, no doubt it would be a dirge and would quickly disintegrate into a drunken and maudlin wake. Seriously not his idea of a good time. "I might stop by for a while. I've got dinner plans."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do." Brandon's tone was nearly a leer, and not a very good natured one at that. He gave a quick glance at Snape, but then slunk away without another word.

"Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Potter." There was a world of disapproval in Snape's expression. Enough to make Harry wonder if he weren't just a bit jealous.

That was wishful thinking, he was sure. Instead of asking, and risking more wrath, Harry shrugged and tried not to blush. "Well...."

Snape pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning against. "As articulate as ever, I see. I do wonder that you managed to do so well on your NEWTs, as your education was obviously deficient."

Instead of responding in kind, Harry used a technique he'd found useful in interviews with obnoxious reporters-- he answered a question that hadn't been asked. "I've been trying to make up for my educational shortcomings for some time."

Too bad Snape didn't seem impressed with his comments. Looking down the considerable length of his nose, Snape said, ever so haughtily, "I'm sure."

Well, this wasn't getting them anywhere. Harry straightened his shoulders and gathered his courage. "So, tell me, why you are here?"

"I wished to tell you something," Snape paused as someone else came out of the locker room. "Do you think we might find a bit of privacy?"

The jitters in his stomach started to dance again. Although he couldn't quite kill the hope, he could see that Snape looked too serious and unexcited for this to be what he hoped. "Privacy? Around here?"

Glancing around, Snape's frown deepened. "What passes for it, then? I'd rather you not hear this in public."

His heart sank further. "Follow me." He led Snape back out onto the pitch, which was now dark and quiet. "I'm assuming this isn't a social call?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking." Snape looked around at the empty bleachers. "I wish to tell you something."

The hesitant tone of Snape's voice scared him enough so that his next comment came out rather more abruptly than he would have liked. "Then tell me and stop nattering."

"I've been seeing someone this summer." Snape took a deep breath. "It's going to continue into this year."

It felt like being hit with a blundger in the chest. He took two steps back. His eyes stung and he had to blink to clear them. With his brain no longer functioning, Harry could not think of a single thing to say. "Why?" he asked after several long seconds of silence.

Snape raised an eyebrow and managed to convey his disdain for the question in a single look. "Why am I seeing someone or why am I telling you?"

"Either. Both." Harry tried to still his trembling anger. At least he wasn't getting married. Not yet. It had to be pretty serious for Snape to have come all this way to tell him. Maybe he was trying to prepare Harry for the worst.

"Why does anyone see another person?" Snape looked away again. "I'm telling you because I did not wish for you to find out from someone else."

"Who else would tell me?" He got the occasional card or letter from Hagrid or McGonagall, but didn't think either would be inclined to mention Snape to him.

Folding his arms over his chest, Snape glared at him. "Miss Granger is coming to teach at Hogwarts this fall. I assumed she would mention it."

"Oh." Harry hadn't known that. He was still having difficulty processing the first part of the conversation, though, so he let it go for now. "Who?"

"That is none of your concern." Snape sounded as if Harry were asking for some long- kept wizarding secret, rather than whom he was dating.

Anger washed over him. As much as it hurt, he had a morbid curiosity to know who had succeeded where he had not. "If you've come this far to tell me your news, you can bloody well tell me who it is."

Snape gave him an unreadable look, but then inclined his head, apparently conceding Harry's point. "Jadzia Randolf. She teaches Arithmancy."

"I didn't realize you dated." Harry had never seen or heard gossip about Snape in all the years he attended Hogwarts. "Women, I mean."

Snape glared at him. "There are a great many things you don't know about me, Mr. Potter. I would have thought you'd have realized that by now. I suspect I was giving you too much credit, again."

"Is she Slytherin?" Of course she was, Harry thought snidely, who else would he get involved with, certainly not a Gryffindor. "Was she one of your students, too?"

"Ravenclaw. She was two years ahead of me at school," Snape said, smiling snidely. "I've always admired her intelligence."

It was really time to get out of this conversation before he said or did something one of them would regret, possibly for a long time. Harry turned toward the tunnel leading back to the locker room. "All right, you've told me. I'll just be going now."

"Whatever you may think, I didn't want to --" Snape stopped abruptly, and then sighed.

"What? Hurt me? Well, you did. Are you happy with that?" Harry was mortified to hear his voice crack.

"I can't help your feelings on this matter." Snape looked like he didn't know what to do or say.

But Harry was too angry to care. "Go away."

Something entered Snape's eyes, and his tone was cold when he spoke. "Your reaction is a little extreme, Mr. Potter. Especially for one who has the reputation you have with wizards and witches off the pitch."

Harry rounded on him, white-hot fury flooding through his veins. "For someone who is supposedly as smart as you would have everyone think, you should know better than to believe everything you read."

"Where there is smoke, Mr. Potter."

"Well, you know what, sir? All I was doing was getting that education that you sent me out for. Looking for a little comfort amid the loneliness of it all."

"Well, then. You shouldn't mind if I find a little comfort for myself."

"Is that all it is?" Because if it were just that, Harry could live with it. He didn't like it, not one damned bloody little bit, but he could live with it.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." Despite the rigidness of Snape's shoulders, he didn't meet Harry's eyes. "I thought I was doing you a courtesy by telling you."

Some courtesy, Harry thought. "You're right. You owe me nothing."

"Please remember that in the future."

"What future?"

Snape closed his eyes and then opened them. "We can't know what the future will hold -- for either of us. Good luck in your career."

"You know that this was my last game."

"Yes. What you do, and with whom you do it, are quite often front page news." He sounded disdainful, as if it were Harry's fault he was in the press so often.

"Then you shouldn't have a problem keeping track of me. Come see me again when you stop seeing Miss Randolph." Harry turned and walked away. As he entered the tunnel, he couldn't help looking back. Snape was standing where he'd left him, looking after him, an unreadable expression on his face.

* * *

After he stumbled off the pitch, Harry skipped the party and met Ron and Hermione for a late dinner in London.

"Harry?" Hermione said, sounding like it was not the first time she'd said his name.

"Sorry." He looked up from his food, and realized he'd been mashing his carrots into paste. He couldn't get the conversation with Snape out of his head. Why had the bastard told him?

Hermione cleared her throat again.

"What were you saying?" Harry asked, feeling the heat rise in his face. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, nothing important," she snapped, pushing her plate away. "I was just telling you that I was going to be teaching at Hogwarts in the fall."

"I knew that," Harry said before he thought about it.

"How did you know?" Ron gestured to Harry's plate to ask if he were done. At Harry's nod Ron reached his fork into the mashed carrots. "No sense in it going to waste."

Closing his eyes, Harry gave in to the inevitable and told them the truth. "I saw Snape earlier this evening."

Hermione's eyes got wide and her annoyed expression softened. "Why? What did he say?"

"Is that what's wrong?" Ron asked, finishing the carrots and starting to work on the rest of Harry's dinner. "Did he hurt you?"

Harry looked at Ron, wondering if Hermione had said something to him. He dismissed the idea. She would never reveal his secrets, even to Ron. Trying for a bland look, though he knew he wasn't going to pull it off, he asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Because even I'm not that blind." Ron chuckled around his potatoes in his mouth. "Once you said you fancied wizards, it was pretty easy to suss out which one you wanted. It's not like you don't defend him every chance you get."

"And you don't have a problem with this?" Harry had expected fireworks when Ron found out. That was partly why he'd avoided telling him at all. Best friend he might be, but Ron was not known for his tolerances, even now that he was an adult.

"Well, it's _Snape_ , you know. But then, anyone you love, and who loves you back, I'm prepared to live with." Ron sounded pleased with himself as if he'd thought this out before he said anything. Maybe he had.

"If only..." Harry said before he could pull it back. "No. He doesn't love me."

"What did he want?" Hermione put a hand over his.

A shudder ran though him and he gently removed his hand from under Hermione's. "He wanted to tell me he was seeing someone. So that I wouldn't hear it as gossip."

What?" Ron exploded. "Bloody hell! Mean-spirited, greasy git. Bad enough that he knows how you feel about him, but to rub it in that he's dating someone else." He paused to take a breath. "Though who would date him anyway? Maybe he was lying."

"That would be infinitely worse," Harry said with a sigh. "Then he'd really be doing it just to hurt me."

Hermione's expression was puzzled. "Why would he tell you that in the first place? Why not just let me tell you?"

"What are you saying?" Ron now looked puzzled too.

"Nothing I've ever heard or seen about Snape would lead me to believe he'd go one step out of his way for anyone. He paid you a courtesy by coming to tell you."

"You're joking." Harry and Ron said together. Harry didn't feel at all like he'd been paid any kind of courtesy, more like he'd been kicked in the stomach.

"Harry, he knew how you felt about him. He didn't want to see you more hurt than you had to be. I think it was nice of him. In a Snape kind of way," Hermione said in that teacher tone she sometimes used when she wanted to make a point or impart something she felt was important.

"Snape and nice do not belong in the same sentence." Ron looked even more annoyed. "I think he was just trying to hurt Harry."

"To what purpose?" Obviously, Hermione was skeptical, but Ron seemed to have no doubt.

"I think he just wanted to take him down a peg or two. Harry's still pretty famous. And Snape has always hated that."

Harry couldn't bear to listen anymore. Part of him thought that maybe Snape was trying to be kind, but mostly it hurt too much to think about it. "Let's drop it, okay? I'm tired of talking about it."

"Who is it? That he's dating, I mean."

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to talk about her. Hermione would find out when school started and no doubt would tell Ron.

"Harry?" Ron asked, clearly expecting to have his questions answered. "Come on, tell us."

"Ron!" Hermione said, slapping him on the arm. "If he doesn't want to--"

" Hermione, we're his friends," Ron whined, clearly feeling that fact entitled him to know all of Harry's business.

"And as such, we should respect his wishes." Hermione seemed just as adamant about not intruding where she was not wanted.

Harry appreciated that.

"Fine." Ron looked disappointed, but smiled at him. "When do you start Auror training?"

Harry flashed him a grateful grin. He really did have very good friends. "In about two weeks. I need to take care of the details with the team, and the final endorsement stuff."

"I bet they were sorry to see you go." Ron signaled the waitress to bring the dessert.

Harry shook his head at the thought of more food. "I've had a good couple of seasons, but you know, it never felt like real life, like what I was doing mattered in the long run." He looked over at Ron. "It's not as if I ever brought them a championship, either."

"Still, attendance more than tripled since you started playing for them." Ron dug into his cake and Hermione sipped her tea.

"Yeah. The boy who played Qudditch." Harry didn't want to sound ungrateful. He'd drawn the fans to a mediocre team and everyone had made a lot of money. It was not as if he'd ever cared about that. And it certainly wasn't a reason to continue to do it.

"At least it paid well. I can tell you that being an Auror does not." Ron said with a rueful smile as he put down his fork. "I'm doomed to be as poor as my parents were."

"The big question is: will you have seven children?" Harry laughed, glad for the chance to talk about something, anything, else other than him.

"Not bloody likely!" Hermione declared, her expression horrified. "Not from me, anyway."

Ron leaned back in his chair and grinned at her. "Since I can't even get you to agree to marry me, I'm not expecting children soon." Despite the smile, there was a note of wistfulness in his tone.

Hermione must have heard it too. "Well, if you asked me properly, I might be inclined to agree." She smiled at Ron expectantly.

Pushing his chair back quickly enough for it to scrape loudly against the wooden floor, drawing the eyes of everyone in the restaurant, Ron stood and then dramatically dropped down on one knee. Despite the staring -- or maybe because of it -- his face had lost all signs of laughter.

He took Hermione's hand in his and kissed it reverently. "Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

"Yes. Of course, I will." Hermione blushed, and put her other hand on his face, leaning over to kiss him softly on the mouth.

"I didn't think wizards asked that way," Harry said quietly after they pulled apart and looked over at him.

"Actually, they don't. There's a whole ceremony and ritual courtship, but I thought Hermione might like the Muggle way. Especially with you here, too." Ron kissed her again, and then gave Harry a quick smile.

Pushing all thoughts of Snape away, he tried to smile back. This moment had been a long time coming. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how it would affect their friendship. The two of them had always meant the world to Harry, and he to them, but now they would commit to each other and he would be left alone again. He swallowed those ungracious thoughts. "I'm happy for both of you."

Ron glanced at Hermione, seeming to ask something with his eyes, and she nodded back, seeming to agree. He took her hand in his and kissed it, then looked at Harry. "You'll stand as our first witness, won't you?"

Harry was speechless. Words escaped him. More than best man or matron of honor in Muggle wedding, the first witness was the guarantor of the couple. He or she took care of details of arranging the ceremony, witnessed and signed the wedding documents, would take care of one of the couple should something happen to the other. It meant they were family. Indeed Harry would have thought Ron would have asked one of his brothers.

"Of course. I'd be honored," Harry said, clearing his throat.

Good, because there is no one else we'd even think about asking." Hermione squeezed his hand and smiled.

The sting in Harry's eyes was too much. He had such good friends. "Have you thought about the others in the wedding party?" Harry asked.

"Since the witnesses are supposed to be family, I was thinking of Bill." He turned towards Hermione. "You do know all the wizarding traditions on marriage, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I researched it completely at least a year ago." She smiled at him. "Since I don't have any close relatives, I was thinking of asking Ginny."

"She'd like that, I'd bet," Harry said. "When do you think you'll do it?"

"Well, wizard courtships can last a year. I'm thinking next summer." Hermione said. "Ron?"

"Sounds good to me. Harry should be done with his training by then."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"You'll get to wear your Auror dress robes to the wedding," Hermione said, it as if this should have been obvious. As if it meant something.

"Oh." He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why that would matter. But then, he'd never developed an appreciation for clothes, wizardly or otherwise. If it was comfortable, he liked it.

* * *

 **Part 4 - Time to Heal Wounds**

Snape slid into the shadows of Potter's hospital room. Of course, being Harry bloody Potter, he rated a private room, while most patients ended up in the ward. The scent of healing potions and magic permeated the quiet dark air. Silently, he moved closer to the bed.

He knew he shouldn't have come, but despite his best arguments with himself, he had not been able to keep away. Perhaps if he only stayed long enough to assure himself that the careless brat hadn't done any permanent damage to himself, he could slip away without anyone the wiser. No one need know he was foolish enough to come in the first place. Snape sighed at his own hopeless stupidity.

The bed was draped in shadows. He could make out shallow breathing from the occupant, but little else. That did not settle well. His fear inflated, threatening to consume him.

He wanted to sneer at himself for being overly dramatic, but if he were to examine his feelings too closely, he might like the results of that inquiry even less than the dramatics. As it was, his heart pounded so loudly he wondered if he would wake Potter from his uneasy sleep. The ignominy of being discovered would be very hard to live down. He should not have come.

But when he thought about how close he'd come to losing Potter, his chest tightened painfully. Snape sucked in a harsh breath and let it out slowly, trying to regain control and still his racing heart.

"Who's there?" a very weak voice asked with little fear in it. "I can hear you breathing."

Snape froze and said nothing, not even daring to breathe.

"Professor?" How had the irritating boy known it was him? "Come on, then. Turn on a light."

Snape pulled his wand out of his robes and said, "Lumos."

"No. Too bright. Do the ones by the bed."

He doused the overhead light and lit the candles by the bedside.

As he got his first good look at Potter, he had to bite back a gasp. Potter was lying twisted on his side, his face molten with ugly color, his shoulder heavily bandaged, his hip tipped forward. He looked like he'd been hit by the Hogwarts Express at top speed. Indeed, he looked lucky to have survived. Snape dug his nails into his palm, hoping the pain would negate some of his reaction to Potter's injuries.

"Not a pretty sight, am I?" Potter sounded amused, which annoyed Snape no end. The idiot had never had much common sense, certainly not enough to stay out of harm's way.

"What have you done to yourself you foolish, foolish boy?" Snape was pleased with himself that he could keep the horror out of his tone.

"Not a boy. Twenty-three," Potter said, his voice raspy. "Grown-up now."

Perhaps he was at that. Still, "Being a target for insanity does not mean that you are an adult. Indeed, you were that as a child."

"So I was." Potter still sounded amused. "However, at my age, I'm not a child."

Snape shook his head, moving to sit down in the ugly plastic chair next to the bed. "No, you're not. However, to me twenty-three is impossibly young."

"So you've told me. More than once." Potter opened his eyes and looked up. "Sit. No. On the side of the bed, so I can see you."

It took everything he had to sit quietly and watch Potter struggle with the pain. Snape wanted so badly to reach out, to brush the fringe out of his eyes, to touch his face, to reassure himself that Potter would be all right, despite all the evidence to the contrary. "Your hair is too long."

"Is that all you can think of to say to me? I haven't seen you in two years." But Potter didn't sound nearly as aggrieved as his words suggested.

Two years, three months, and a few odd days, Snape corrected mentally as he finally gave into temptation and pushed the lank strands back from Potter's forehead. "What would you have me say, Mr. Potter?"

"Are you still seeing Jadzia Randolph?" Potter eyes bored into his and Snape had to look away.

"Yes," he said, honestly. She was at Hogwarts and he was at Hogwarts. The arrangement worked well for both of them. There would be no explaining that to Potter and he wouldn't try.

Potter let out a deep sigh, sounding pained on too many levels for Snape's peace of mind. Still, as much as he might have wanted to explain, he could not.

"I guess that's all there is to that. Will you marry her?" Potter asked a few minutes later, his voice under better control.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no. She is planning to leave at the end of this term," Snape said, wondering where on earth Potter got his ideas.

"This doesn't bother you? That she is leaving?" He didn't add the 'you' to the end of the sentence, but he might as well have.

"It's her decision. I have nothing to say about it." From the beginning of their arrangement, he had been aware of her plans to eventually leave. He also knew that should he desire to do so, she would ask him to accompany her.

"Do you want her to stay?" Potter pressed. Snape knew what he was asking. Knew just what Potter was looking, hoping to hear. No matter how true it might be, it wasn't time for Snape to say it. Or more truthfully, it wasn't his right to say it.

"She may do as she pleases." Snape kept his tone and expression perfectly neutral. It wasn't that he didn't care about her. He did, after a fashion. Just not in the fashion that Potter believed.

"I didn't ask that. How do you feel about it?" Wasn't Potter just like a dog with a bone, worrying it to death? Typical Gryffindor.

"How I feel about anything is none of your concern." Snape tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but knew he failed. But he also could not keep his fingers from returning to Potter's hair, sliding it back from his face. He changed the subject. "How did you manage to do this to yourself?"

Moving his head slightly, Potter leaned into his touch. "Didn't you read all about it in the Daily Prophet? I would have thought they'd have the whole story, inaccurate or not."

"I did not. Professor Weasley saw fit to inform me of it when it happened." He'd exerted every ounce of control he owned to get back to his rooms before he broke something. He breathed out very slowly. Even now the ghosts of his fears settled uneasily in his belly.

"Oh." Potter shifted on the bed. "Can you help me to turn over?"

"Shouldn't I call the medi-witch?" Snape asked. "I'd rather not help you hurt yourself. You seem to be doing a fine job of that on your own."

"Don't want to bother her." Potter struggled to turn onto his back. Even in stages with Snape helping him, it was an arduous process.

When he was settled again, Snape took his hand. "Tell me what happened."

Potter sighed, closing his eyes. "We were set up. A group of former Death Eaters had put together a syndicate. We got a tip, but they were ready for us. They spelled a Muggle handgun so that the bullet damage can't be fixed by magic. I was shot twice. It's amazing that I survived. Two of my colleagues didn't."

"It wasn't your fault." Although it wasn't easy for him, Snape made an effort to sound reassuring. He could only imagine the guilt that Potter felt at having survived. Again. Stupid boy would no doubt go to great length to prove himself worthy.

"I was the most inexperienced member of the team." Potter looked away. "I think the only reason I was on the team at all was that I requested it, and who would turn down the bloody Boy Who Lived?"

"I would," Snape smiled as he said it.

"Yes, so you've proved." Potter turned his head away.

Snape didn't know what to say to that, so he remained silent, cursing his inability to give comfort effectively. Potter did not deserve his enmity, and that seemed all he was capable of.

"Why did you come?" Potter asked after a few minutes of silence.

"To make sure you're all right." Snape stood. "Now that I see that you are alive, I shall not trouble you with my presence any longer."

Potter frowned, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. "Sit."

"Why?" Snape asked, even as he sat carefully on the bed again. "What do you want?"

"The same thing I've always wanted." Despite the harshness of his words, Potter's voice sounded stronger, perhaps simply more awake. "I'm going to walk with a limp. In time, they told me I might be able to fly, but I'll never play Qudditch again."

"How long will you be confined here?"

"The bullet wounds will take a few weeks to heal by themselves. I guess at least that long. Then, I'll go to the Burrow."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Snape took a breath before he could answer. "Shall I tell you I'm sorry for you? Is that what you want to hear?"

"No. I don't want your pity." Thankfully, Potter sounded quite adamant on that point.

Snape was tiring of this question and answer session. It was accomplishing nothing. "Then I ask you again, what do you want from me?"

"You came to me this time." The blasted brat had to point that out, as if he weren't aware of it already.

No, he knew only too well that his own stupidity had him here in the middle of the night, looking in on someone whom by all rights he should not even care about. That he had never been able to control his feelings successfully was no comfort to Snape now.

He sighed, disgusted with himself, and turned his attention back to the brat. "Do you have any thought about what you'll do now?"

A small smiled touched Potter's mouth as he nodded. "Bill Weasley got me an interview with Gringotts. It actually sounds interesting."

"Curse breaking?"

"Yes"

"It should pay well."

"I'll get a full disability retirement from the Ministry. Besides, I started out with more money than I could spend in my lifetime." Potter sounded like money was more of an inconvenience to him than a blessing. Perhaps it was at that.

"See that you live long enough to try." Snape shifted on the bed, but did not stand, as much as he wanted to. "I should go."

"Not before you kiss me good-bye." Potter had a brazen smirk on his face.

Snape wanted to wipe it off or kiss it off or... Merlin, what was he thinking?

Oh right, he wasn't.

It should have been framed as a request as well, Snape thought, annoyed again. The silly prat made it an order. "Why would you even think I would want to do that?"

"Because it will be another year or two before you see me again."

His chest tightened at Potter's words. Not yet, then. There would come a time, Snape promised himself, when Potter would be ready to ask for what he desired. As much as Snape might want to, and right now, he did very much want to, he would never do anything to even suggest the possibility.

"You're operating under the mistaken impression that I care whether I will ever see you again." Snape heard the lie in his own voice and knew that Potter did as well. "I'm not surprised, of course, given your less than stellar mental capacities. Mistaking curiosity for caring is an easy error."

Potter had the impertinence to laugh. "God, I have missed you, sir."

There was nothing he could say to that.

Standing, he cursed himself again for a fool as he leaned over Potter, putting one hand gently onto his face. "This means nothing." He lowered his head and softly pressed his mouth to Potter's.

Potter's mouth opened, his tongue slipping out to touch and retreat. Closing his eyes, Snape slid his hand more firmly into Potter's hair, pulling back ever so slightly, but without releasing his lips completely, then pressing forward to kiss him more deeply. A wave of longing washed over Snape, making him wistful for things that he would not ask for.

Opening his eyes as he pulled back, he reiterated his point. "Nothing."

Potter's uninjured arm stretched across his neck and brought his face back down for another kiss. "Of course not, sir."

For a short a time, Snape bent over the bed, savoring Potter's kisses, each one lusher, more delicious, more intoxicating than the last.

A noise in the corridor made him draw back, his fingers easing slowly out of Potter's hair. "I must go."

It took a moment for Potter's eyes to focus, and when they did, he frowned. "If you must, then go."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but--"

"It's not time yet, is it?" Potter sounded resigned, almost as though he expected it would never be time.

Opening his mouth to disagree, Snape closed it again, the words left unsaid. What he might want didn't matter. He stepped away from the bed and temptation.

"Are you ever going to call me Harry?" Potter muttered as he reached the door.

Snape turned back to look at him, and smirked. "When you give me leave to do so." Not bothering to wait for an answer to that, Snape turned sharply, making sure his robes billowed out around him impressively, and exited the room. He heard Potter whisper, "Bastard," as the door closed behind him.

* * *

 **Part 5 - Time to Grow Up**

Standing against the wall of the staff common room with his arms folded over his chest, Snape waited impatiently for the final staff meeting of the year to commence. The last of the miscreants had left the previous morning, and after this one final task, he would have six weeks perfectly free. He had several projects he wanted to work on this summer and the sooner he got to them, the better.

The other teachers were sitting around the tables, eating scones and drinking tea or coffee. At the best of times Snape was not sociable, although sometimes he could force himself to make the effort. But with his freedom so close at hand, he could not be bothered.

Minerva McGonagall breezed into the room, her robes fluttering around her. Unlike her predecessor, who tended to drag these things out, Headmistress McGonagall got right to the point. "I'd like your final student reports on my desk by tomorrow morning. After that, we shall meet two weeks before the fall term begins. Are there any questions?"

She looked around, making eye contact with everyone. As much as he still missed Albus, Snape had to admit that McGonagall had done a more than adequate job as Headmistress the past six years. Albus had trained her well.

"Good," McGonagall said. "Oh, and one last thing. As some of you may have heard, Professor Robertson is leaving us."

There was a general murmur of surprise around the room. Snape didn't care one way or another except...

"...I shall be looking for a suitable candidate to fill the Defense Against Dark Arts position over the summer. If any of you have suggestions, I shall be happy to hear them." It was plain by her tone that though she would listen, she had already made her decision.

The DADA professorship was notoriously hard to fill. It took a special kind of magic to do the job properly, and most witches and wizards simply did not have it. Contrary to popular opinion, Snape had no interest in the job himself, at least not since Voldemort's defeat. However, he realized that.... He ruthlessly cut the thought off before it could completely materialize.

It was not something he was going to consider. Hope was an emotion he could ill afford to indulge in, not if he had any wish to remain at least reasonably content with his life as it was.

"If there is nothing else." McGonagall looked around again. "I shall see you all in six weeks. Hermione, may I speak to you for a moment?"

Snape's heart started to pound despite his best effort to ignore the implications of that request. Whatever McGonagall had to say to Weasley was none of his concern, and he should leave now. But the sternness of his inner voice did nothing to deter him, and he stood rooted to the spot, desperate to hear and damning himself for his need to know.

"Yes, Headmistress?" Hermione Weasley said, smiling slightly as if she knew what McGonagall was going to ask her.

"I am going to write Harry Potter about the DADA position. I do think he'd be perfect for the job." McGonagall sounded eager at the prospect.

Weasley smiled widely, and then it faded. "I'd love for him to come home. I just don't know if he will or not."

"Why not?" McGonagall asked. She clearly hadn't considered the possibility that Potter might turn her down.

Neither had Snape.

"He's spent the last year in Egypt." She trailed off and looked at him and then away quickly. "He's been living with Ron's brother Bill...."

McGonagall face showed her surprise. "Oh. I see."

So did Snape. He could feel all the blood drain out of his face and the air leave his lungs in a rush. He turned and fled before a more humiliating reaction could shame him.

He almost made it to his office before he had to stop. His chest was so tight he felt as if he might suffocate, but the burning in his lungs made it imperative that he take a breath. He was mortified when his deep breaths sounded suspiciously like something else. Leaning his head against the wall, he was thankful for the cool stone against his hot face. For several moments he concentrated on breathing in and out, nothing more than that. A noise startled him out of his trance.

Get out of the corridor, his protective instincts shouted at him. Now. Move.

He made it into his office. Nauseated, he put both hands flat on his desk and leaned over, his stomach roiling, trying to catch his breath. When he realized the position he was in, he stood up, disgusted with himself. He had to do something quickly or he would be consumed by his...

What was he thinking? Shaking his head, he laughed bitterly at his own folly. What an arse he was. How could he ever have believed....

No, he swore to himself, he hadn't.

Oh, but he had. Hope had wormed its way into his heart and he'd somehow, someway, come to believe there was a chance. Taking another shuddering breath, he cursed himself for ever believing in anything, especially anything so tenuous as that boy's affections.

The shattered hope wasn't the worst of it, though. No, he thought acidly, the worst was that he'd done it to himself. He'd waited too long. Impatient as he'd known Potter was, Snape should have realized he would get tired of waiting.

Another deep breath. Because he had to survive, despair turned to anger.

How dare Potter reduce him to this?

The inconsiderate little boy hadn't the courtesy to at least call off their charade in person. The whole thing had been a schoolboy fantasy, nothing more. That it had gone on so long was a testament to his own utter stupidity -- something he would rectify immediately.

He picked up a bottle of something and slammed it into the wall. The sound of it breaking was particularly satisfying to him. So much so, he did it again. By the time he'd broken a dozen bottles the scent rising from the mess was spectacularly awful. Perhaps a dozen more and he'd consider just how he was going to teach Potter some manners.

If Potter came to Hogwarts. Which he wasn't going to since he was involved with Bill Bloody Weasley. Bugger all, the boy had no taste at all. But that had been obvious from the beginning, hadn't it?

"Professor Snape?" Hermione Weasley stood in his office doorway, looking horrified at the mess he'd made. Too bad. She didn't have to clean it up.

Oh why hadn't he locked the infernal door?

Weasley was the very last thing he wanted to deal with under the best of circumstances, which these were not. He glared at her, wishing her away and knowing it would do him no good. With a deep breath, he pulled himself together. "Professor Weasley, what do you want?"

"I came down to see if you were okay." She sounded ever so slightly tentative, as if she knew she would not be welcomed and had come anyway. Bloody Gryffindor.

Snape straightened to his full height, and looked down his nose at her. For someone as smart as she sometimes seemed to be, she had no sense of survival at all. "Why on earth would you think otherwise?"

"You left the staff room rather suddenly." She met his eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "I thought you might be upset."

"My dear girl," he let his tone dip just a tad, "what could possibly have upset me?"

Damn the woman. She didn't ever have the good grace to flinch. He really must be losing his touch.

"I don't think you knew about Harry and Bill," Weasley said, still not backing down.

Keeping his expression as mild as possible, except for the uncontrollable tic in his cheek, Snape raised an eyebrow. "What Mr. Potter does and with whom he does it is of absolutely no concern to me. Surely you have enough intelligence to understand that."

"Look I know how you f--"

He cut her off before she could say it. There was nothing on earth that could make him hear that and not react, predictably violently. "Do not push me, girl."

Good, now she looked affronted. "I'm not--"

"No. You're not. You're a professor at this school, sticking your nose into things that don't concern you. Just as you did when you were a child. Now, I'm asking you, nicely, to leave me alone."

She stood firmly, refusing to let it go. "I'm just trying--"

"Enough," he snapped, his patience finally at an end. "Hasn't it penetrated your thick skull that I don't care? Get out. I've had enough of you, Professor."

"You're such a bastard," she said scowling at him. "And you're a fool. If you'd ever bothered to tell him--"

"Get out," Snape spat through his clenched teeth. "Get out, now."

She turned and stalked away. Finally.

Blowing out a breath, he leaned back against the wall, sliding down until he was crouched on his haunches. He put his head in his hands and groaned.

Merlin, he hated Weasley and he hated Harry Potter and he hated his own foolish hope.

* * *

Summer in Egypt was very hot. Even with the windows spelled to keep most of the heat out, it was still quite warm inside. Harry didn't mind so much; in fact, dry hot air had been helpful in healing both his lungs and his hip. So much so that most days he didn't even feel the wounds. Although he walked easily and unaided, he'd never quite got rid of the limp.

Harry wiped the sweat off his brow and tried once again to concentrate on his report. It was due on Monday.

A noise at the window caught his attention. A big brown owl sat outside, feathers a bit limp from the heat and exhaustion. Opening the window, Harry let him in, taking the package from him. Feeding the bird a treat, he nodded towards the perch off to one side. No doubt the owl was tired -- it was a long trip from Hogwarts.

With a calmness that was betrayed by the fast beating of his heart, Harry opened the package and took out a letter and several other documents. The letter had the Headmistress' seal on it. His hands trembled so badly he found it hard to focus on the words.

She was asking him to come home. Closing his eyes, Harry breathed out in a long hitching sigh.

Finally. Home.

As much as he loved Egypt, and his job, and even Bill, it wasn't England and it wasn't home and it wasn't Snape.

The door opened and Bill nuzzled his shoulder, his hand sliding along Harry's belly to pull him closer. "Is that a letter from home?"

"In a manner of speaking." There wasn't going to be a good or easy way to do handle the situation, so Harry handed him the parchment.

As Bill read the few paragraphs, his face went pale. "I guess this is it, then. Isn't it?" He didn't sound like he was all that surprised, but Bill was a top cursebreaker; he had steady nerves and a lot of control. "When will you be leaving?"

"I just got it. I don't know if--"

"Don't lie to me, Harry," Bill cut him off sharply, his expression hardening. "That's all I've ever asked of you."

He looked away, not wanting to see the pain he knew would be in Bill's face. "I'm sorry."

"I never expected anything else." Bill took a breath and then a second one. He put a hand on Harry's cheek. "Don't feel too badly."

Harry just looked at him. How could he not feel badly? Both of them knew that he'd never loved Bill, not like he'd deserved to be loved. Not like he wanted to be loved. "I'm--"

"Do not say you're sorry again or I'll bash you." Bill put his arms around Harry and held him for a moment. "It is okay."

To Harry's mind, there was something very wrong about Bill comforting him when he was leaving. He felt like a first class prat. And he was. He was abandoning Bill and his job with Gringotts on the slim hope that he might finally have a chance with the only thing, the only person, he'd ever really wanted.

It could be that after all this time, Snape would not want him. Or Snape might say he was still too young. He shuddered. That was probably unlikely. However, Snape not wanting him was possible. He shouldn't get his hopes up.

One way or another, though, he'd be home and able to work on the problem. If Snape rejected him completely, then he'd crawl off somewhere to lick his wounds. He'd also have his friends around to ease his hurt.

It was time to go home and resolve the situation once and for all.

He looked at Bill and smiled his best self-deprecating smile. "Why are you being so nice about this?"

"Because I'm a nice guy." Bill grinned, maybe a little sadly, but still with that inner spark of light that infused everything he did. "Besides, it's not like you ever made me any promises."

"You are a nice guy." Bill Weasley was one of the nicest, sweetest men he'd ever met. Harry wished he could have loved him. "You deserve better than this, better than me."

"Harry, don't flog yourself over this." Bill took his hand. "So, when are you going to leave?"

"I don't know." Harry let Bill embrace him. "I'd like to stay and work out the summer, if that's okay." Facing everyone's disappointment was not something he wanted to think about yet. He especially did not want to face Ron's wrath when he heard he'd broken up with Bill to go back to Hogwarts. Oh, Ron would forgive him eventually, he always did, but until then...

"Sure. I'm glad to have you as long as I can keep you." Bill kissed him softly.

Reaching up to pull the clip out of Bill's hair, Harry buried his face in the strands, trying not to think about anything at all.

* * *

Slowly making his way up the creaky stairs at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry juggled several packages and boxes, trying keep them all from falling. His hip ached and he needed to take his meds. He used Muggle pain-killers and anti-inflammatories since neither the spelled bullet wounds nor the pain caused by overuse could be treated with magical means. Pressing his palm against the door to his room, it opened with a snick.

"It's about time you got back," Ron Weasley said, standing up as Harry came in. "I've been waiting for hours."

Startled, Harry dropped all of his packages and turned on the intruder, drawing his wand before he realized who it was. "Damn, Ron! What are you doing here?"

Ron bent down to help him with the packages, then stood, stacked them on the dresser, and turned to him. "Came to talk to you, didn't I?"

Harry closed his eyes and hoped that he would survive this encounter intact. Possibly he wouldn't need his pain killers after all, because he'd be dead in a few minutes. "How did you even know I was back in England? And how to find me?"

Folding his arms over his chest, Ron gave him a smug look. "Do you really think I can't track you anywhere you might be? What do I do for a living?"

Harry inclined his head, conceding that Ron was one of the best Aurors that the ministry had seen in years. "Fine. Did it occur to you that I might not want to see anyone yet?"

"No. I know you. You're worried that I'm going to be angry because you broke it off with Bill." Ron's voice was more amused than furious.

Harry looked at him. "You're not?"

"No." Ron smirked at him. "Even without talking to Bill to confirm it, I know you never meant to hurt him."

With a sigh, Harry studied his shoes. "I did, though. I'm sorry I did."

"He'll get over it."

"How can you be so sure?" Because if it were Harry finding out the one person he loved was going to leave him for someone else, he would not be okay with it. The very thought sent a cold shiver up his spine.

"I know Bill. He's not like us. He falls in love a lot." Ron looked away. "Not a lot, really. But it is different with him."

"How so?" Harry didn't understand and he wanted, needed to. Hurting Bill had seemed unbearably cruel to him, and he hated himself for doing it. "I mean, he said he loved me. Didn't he?"

"Oh, I'm sure he did. But he won't be moaning after you for the rest of his life. He'll have himself a good cry, go out and get totally pissed a few times, and then mope for a few more months. After that, he'll meet someone new, and be okay. Bet you ten galleons that he has a new boyfriend to bring home next summer." Ron smiled at him. "It's not like you and me."

"What about us?" Harry limped over to the dresser and took out his bottle of pills, swallowing down two of them, then pouring some water to chase them.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, nodding towards the pills, concern etching into his face. "I mean those...."

"Yeah. I'm fine. I overdid it shopping today. Mostly, I don't even need the meds." Harry put the bottle back in his drawer. "You were saying that Bill isn't like you and me."

"He's not. I mean, I've loved Hermione for most of my life." Ron looked away, his face flushing. "She the only one I've ever been with."

That was news to Harry. "I thought you guys got together after school. I know you dated other people. So did she for that matter."

"But she was the only one I ever...." Ron blush deepened rivaling his hair for color. He waved his hand, impatiently. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah. Wish that he would have let that happen." Harry couldn't bear to say his name; Ron knew what he meant, anyway. "I had almost no experience when I went to him the first time."

"You know, it's a lot more romantic to think of than it is to do." Ron laughed. "Neither of us knew a bloody thing about it. It was awkward and I hurt her and then she hurt me."

"What did she do?"

"She blackened my eye."

Harry laughed. "I remember. Beginning of seventh year, you sported that black eye for a week. Never told me where it came from, either. Or that you guys had got together then."

"We sort of split up after that for a while. And then it was a long time before she let me touch her again. Not that I blame her. I mean, I had no idea what I was doing."

"But you loved her."

"Sometimes, that's not enough. She and I spent a lot of time figuring out what to do. The first few times were not so good."

This didn't fit with his romantic notions of true love and all that. "Aren't you glad that you're the only one?"

Shaking his head, Ron grinned ruefully. "I'd trade us being the firsts, for one of us having known what we were doing and not having hurt each other."

"Given his age and everything else, I think Snape would have known what he was doing."

Ron put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Now, you both will."

"If he agrees."

"He'd better. You've waited, what, seven years for the bastard." At least, Ron didn't disparage him for having waited that long. "I'll have a talk with the git, if he doesn't behave himself where you're concerned."

That was not a conversation that Harry wanted to contemplate at all. The very thought made him shiver with dread. "It hasn't been quite seven years."

Ron shook his head as if to say he couldn't believe Snape could possibly reject Harry now. "Hermione said he had a tantrum when he found out about you and Bill."

"What?" Bloody Hell, Harry didn't want to know. "What did he do?"

"She said after she told Minerva about you and Bill, he left suddenly and she found him in his office, breaking potion bottles on the floor."

Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. He should have said something to Snape, or at least owled, before he found out from gossip. Snape deserved better than that from him. But then, so had Bill. Bloody Hell, what a cock-up he'd made of things. "Oh bugger. He's never going to forgive me for not telling him first."

Ron looked perplexed. "Why? It's not like you two were involved or that there were promises between you."

"No, but...." All Harry could hope for now was that he could convince Snape to forgive him. And that was so unlikely that Harry knew to think about it would just dishearten him even more. "Do you want to get something to eat?"

Clearly surprised by the abrupt subject change, Ron looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Sure, mate. Whatever you want."

* * *

 **Part 6 - Time To Come Home**

With only a few days left before the term started, Harry made his way down to the dungeons uninvited. He'd seen Snape just a handful of times in the two weeks he'd been back at Hogwarts. Snape had been formal to the point of rude -- which admittedly wasn't far off his usual self. Harry knew he shouldn't have been surprised by the cold, impersonal man he'd encountered. Being treated like a stranger after everything that had happened between them over the years seemed like a slap in the face.

He knocked firmly on Snape's door. No answer. Just as he was about to knock a second time, the door finally opened. "Oh, it's you." No one could sound as bored as Snape did when he wanted to be insulting. "What do you want?"

"To speak to you." Harry didn't wait for an answer, he simply pushed his way into the room. A quick glance showed a neat sitting room with a fireplace. Two brown leather chairs were set adjacent to the hearth, with a matching leather sofa in front of them. A large wooden desk took up the other half of the room, and from what Harry could see, it was piled with papers.

"Do come in, Mr. Potter." Snape glared at him. "Oh, you're already in. How delightful your manners are."

"About the same as always." Harry grinned at him. "And please call me Harry. We've certainly known each other long enough."

"On the contrary, Mr. Potter. We don't know each other at all."

Bloody hell. Sometimes he hated Snape every bit as much as he loved him. "What do you call the last fourteen years?"

"Thirteen years, eleven months--"

"And twenty-two days. But who's counting?"

"I'm afraid that none of it counts for what you're thinking about."

"It would be pointless to ask what I'm thinking about, wouldn't it? Why don't you just explain what you're trying to accomplish with this, and then we'll both know."

Snape just looked at him, his expression perfectly blank. "I am not up to anything, Mr. Potter. I'm simply stating the facts as I see them. If you were not so mentally deficient that you see only what you wish to see, you'd realize that."

It never got any easier with the bastard. Harry sighed. "You know, I've been thinking there are two ways to approach this. One involves throwing you over your desk and fucking you within an inch of your life."

There was something wonderfully satisfying about watching Snape's eyes widen with shock, and perhaps a little anticipation. "Unacceptable. What was the other option?" was all Snape said, however.

"The other option is to try and court you." The problem with that, of course, was that Harry had no idea how to court anyone. People either came to him, or they didn't, but it was their choice; Harry never pursued anyone. The only person in his adult life that he'd ever really wanted was Snape, and Snape was the one person who could not be bothered with him. That should probably tell him something about himself, but he wasn't in the mood to analyze it.

Folding his arms over his chest, Snape managed to look completely unimpressed. "That is ever so slightly more acceptable."

"Right then. We'll do it the hard way. That is what you want, isn't it?" Harry tried not to sound too put out. As with everything else in his whole life, he'd do what he had to do. Snape was not going to get away from him this time. He'd waited too bloody long already.

"What I really want is for you to leave me alone." Snape said it as if he meant it, but Harry didn't believe it. Besides, if he hadn't wanted him there, then Harry wouldn't have been allowed in at all. That was a given.

"I don't believe you." He looked at Snape and smiled sweetly as he could given the sourness in his stomach and his all around bloody-minded mood. "Convince me."

"Why exactly should I be required to do that?"

"Because this has gone on too long, and I've come too far for you to dump me without ever having me."

"You are still laboring under the false assumption that I ever wanted you in the first place."

"Look. Can we just skip this part? I know you wanted me. That you probably still want me. I'm sorry about Bill. That wasn't right. I should have owled you." He risked a glance at Snape.

Who was not looking half so complacent now that he'd brought Bill's name up. "You should have told me in person, but as you have pointed out, you have no manners to speak of."

Now they were finally getting somewhere. Harry lowered his eyes and sighed. It wasn't hard to be contrite since he did feel awful about what he'd done, or more to the point, hadn't done. Perhaps letting Snape know that gave him too much leverage, but Harry knew it had to be said. "I'm very sorry. I know I was wrong about that. The truth is that I just never expected it to go anywhere."

The disinterest had faded and Snape looked like he'd swallowed something bitter. "Then why did you become involved with him in the first place?"

"Because he was there and he wanted me. He said loved me." Harry glanced at Snape. "I'd been alone a very long time. Why did you become involved with Jadzia Randolph?"

Snape closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, resignedly. "For much the same reasons. Mostly because she wanted me."

"Then we're even." Harry hoped so. Anticipation started to hum on his nerves. He'd been waiting such a long time for Snape. "We can move on."

"Perhaps. However, not as you no doubt wish to do. Not into the bedroom. Not yet, anyway."

Bloody Hell. Harry was getting tired of this. "Okay. I'll ask you again, what do you want?"

"I think that should be obvious."

"I admit defeat. I've missed it again." Harry held his hand out, pleadingly. "Just tell me."

Snape mumbled something that he could not hear.

"What?"

"I said: I wish to get to know you, as an adult."

Harry blinked at him. He supposed he could wait a while for option one. "Okay. We can date. What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"I shall be readying my classroom for the influx of students two days hence. You should be doing the same."

"No doubt," Harry agreed absently. He wasn't leaving until he got a firm commitment of some kind out of Snape. What kind it might be was still open to negotiation. "School work is for the day. You have to eat. We could go to Hogsmeade in the evening." Harry smiled at him. "What do you say, Severus--"

"I don't recall giving you leave to call me by my given name." God, Snape could sound snotty when he worked at it.

"Haven't we already discussed my appalling lack of manners?" He let his smile change to a smirk. "I gave you leave, so I'm assuming it's going to be okay the other way, too."

Snape looked disgusted but said nothing more about it. Indeed, he said nothing at all, returning to his desk and sitting down. "There is no hope for you, Mr. Potter. I have work to do."

"I'm not leaving." Harry folded his arms over his chest, and sat down on the edge of Snape's desk.

"Remove yourself from my desk, now." Snape's tone brooked no argument, and if Harry had been a student, he would have felt compelled to obey. "Or I shall remove you."

"Have at it, old man." Harry snickered at the look on Snape's face. If he pushed far enough, he wondered if he could get more than a raised eyebrow out of the man.

Snape stood again, looming over him, pointing his finger into Potter's face. "You, Mr. Potter, have always had more courage than brains."

He took hold of the finger and held it. "I've waited long enough for you to do me the courtesy of answering my request."

Pulling his hand away, Snape stepped back. "What request was that?"

"That you set a date to go out with me."

"I'm not sure why you think you can force this issue. I don't have to do anything with you or for you. I certainly don't want to." Snape smiled nastily at him.

Harry supposed he had a point. However, he was not going to give up. Victory was at hand. "Are you playing hard to get, or something?"

"I am impossible to get." Snape's dark eyes actually sparkled as he spoke. "I would rather date a toad than be forced into going out with you."

"I can arrange that. And don't think I won't turn anyone else you try to see into one. Just try it." He met Snape's eyes seriously. "No more playing around."

Snape actually had the gall to laugh at him. "You know, Mr. Potter. I think I may actually have missed you. Possibly more than I realized."

"Good." More hope warmed Harry's heart. "When do you want to have dinner with me?"

"Four years from next Friday."

"Unacceptable."

"You're not going to leave until I agree, are you?" Snape scowled -- or perhaps that was just an attempt to cover a smile. "Fine. Next Friday night."

Point to Snape for that one. "Right after school starts. So that we will both be too tired to do more than fall asleep?"

"You said to pick a date, and so I have." He raised an eyebrow. "You may, of course, refuse me."

As if that were even a remote possibility. "I'll meet you at the main gates at 7:00."

"Now, you may leave."

"I'll be back."

"I'm sure you will." Snape couldn't quite make it sound like he was disappointed with the prospect of Harry's eventual return.

* * *

Hogsmeade hadn't changed much since Harry was a student there. There were several nice restaurants and he took Snape to the best of them. Had he had more energy, he might have Apparated them to London, but they were both too tired to appreciate anything more than a good hot meal and an early night.

Harry did most of the talking, telling amusing stories about his work with Gringotts and the cursebreaking.

"If you liked it so well, and were as good as you say, why did you leave?" Snape asked. He'd been quiet during most of their meal, simply listening to Harry without much comment.

"It was time to come home," Harry said. Even with the newest Snape complication in his life, he was glad to be back in England, glad to be back at Hogwarts.

"Do you still consider Hogwarts home? You've been away as many years as you were here."

"I know. It will always be home. It was the first place I can ever remember feeling safe." And loved. And wanted.

"Safe?" Snape said. "You were stalked nearly your entire educational career by a psychopathic madman out for your blood."

"There were also people who tried to protect me--"

"--However ineffectual those attempts might have been."

"They tried. That was all I ever cared about. I couldn't fight the prophecy. I knew that from fifth year on."

"So you did." Snape looked down at his food, and moved it around his plate.

"Isn't it any good?"

"It's fine. I'm tired. It has been a long first week."

"Longer for me. This is my first time teaching."

"That's not entirely true, is it. The only students who passed their OWLs your fifth year were the ones you taught." Was there actually a note of admiration in Snape's voice? For him?

Harry could barely credit that, and he could feel the heat rise in his face. "I did what I had to do in the face of Dolores Umbridge."

Shuddering, Snape smiled evilly. "You know, it's almost perfect justice that she's still in St. Mungo's."

"I know I should feel sorry for her, but I don't. She made my life sodding miserable." Harry held out his hand, palm down. "I still have the scar from her detentions."

Taking his hand, Snape looked down at the faint scar, tracing it with one finger. "Bloody hell, what did that moronic bitch do to you?"

"Made me write 'I will not tell lies' with a quill that etched it into the back of my hand, using my own blood for ink." Harry shuddered. "God, how I hated her."

"I was not fond of her myself." He looked at Harry, letting his hand go. "Why did you never tell anyone?"

"I believed at the time that she had the power to do it and no one could -- or would -- help me."

"Foolish boy."

"It was a long time ago."

"So it was. We should be heading back to school now."

"I suppose so." Harry was reluctant for the evening to end. "Can we do this again?"

"Perhaps." Snape stood. "Let's go."

They walked slowly back along the path to Hogwarts. Before they reached the gate, Harry stopped him. Without asking, he put a hand on Snape's pale cheek and leaned up to kiss him. "I had a good time."

"Surprisingly, so did I."

"Why are you surprised?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

Snape shrugged. "To be truthful, I didn't expect you to be so interesting."

"Thanks. Wasn't I interesting when I was a student? I thought I was brilliant." Harry laughed self-deprecatingly.

"Not in the same way you are as an adult, Harry."

The sound of his given name on Snape's lips sent shivers down Harry's spine. Putting his arms around Snape's waist, he pulled him closer, leaning up to kiss him again. Snape's mouth opened and his tongue dipped between Harry's lips, thrusting and retreating mischievously.

Following his lead, Harry allowed his mouth to be explored and then went back to do some exploring of his own. Snape's mouth was hot and sweet and delicious. Harry thought he could keep kissing Snape for the rest of his life, but all too soon, Snape pulled back.

He put a finger to Harry's lips and Harry kissed it. "Enough for now, I think," Snape said, stepping out of his arms. "We won't get any sleep."

"Sleep is very over-rated." Harry was tired and aroused. The two warred with each other. Even if he were willing to push things, though, he doubted Snape was ready. "You're right, we should get to the castle."

"Indeed." Snape bowed slightly, holding out his arm for Harry to precede him.

* * *

 **Part 7: Time for Love**

"You know, Harry," Ron said, laughing as he set his glass down on the table between them, "Snape is leading you on a merry chase."

Harry groaned into his ale. "You're telling me, mate. I'm the one who's been dating him for the past month." Four Friday nights out, and still they had done nothing more than talk, and a single goodnight snog at the end of the evening. "It's not like I haven't had a good time...."

"You've been hoping for a bit more than that, huh?" Ron asked, his expression sympathetic.

"I've been waiting nearly seven years for more than that." Harry finished off his ale. "Another?"

Ron nodded and started to reach into his pocket.

"I've got this one," Harry said as he stood and made his way to the bar.

"Well, you could always go with option one." Ron snickered and took the ale Harry handed him. "I'm horrified to say that part of me would like to see that. Not in a real way you understand, but certainly metaphorically."

"Do you even know what metaphorically means?" Harry took a long pull on his drink.

"I'll ask Hermione and she'll tell me."

"I bet she won't. She'll make you look it up, just like she did when we were at school."

They both laughed, a bit pissed now. "Probably."

"She's been looking a little under the weather lately," Harry said, remembering this morning when she'd left breakfast abruptly. "Is she okay?"

Yeah. She's fine. Well, mostly fine." Ron beamed at him and Harry had a feeling he knew what was coming. "She's pregnant."

Even as joy broke over him and he slapped Ron hard on the back, some small child buried deep within him worried that this might be the point where Ron and Hermione left him behind. That this might be the time that he lost his family, to their growing one. "Oh, wow. That's brilliant, mate. Well, done. Very well done."

"Yeah. We've been waiting until the three-month mark to tell everyone, but since you asked I figured I could tell you sooner." Ron looked so pleased with himself.

"I'm overjoyed." Harry hoped his momentary trepidation didn't show. He would never, ever do anything that would lessen their happiness.

Ron looked carefully at him, and Harry knew he'd given himself away. "You'll be godfather, of course. And I'm expecting all the uncle services out of you. That's going to include babysitting and changing those dirty nappies."

Harry nodded, too emotional just then to speak. He had such good friends -- family. "You think I won't do that? I've been waiting for a long time for you both to give me a family."

"Glad to be of service." Ron smiled at him, then looked at his watch. "Oi, looks like it's time for me to be heading home. I don't like to leave Hermione alone for too long."

Harry could see Hermione was going to have her hands full with Ron worrying about her every move. "She's healthy, right?"

"Sure," Ron said, but he looked a little concerned. "She does too much. You know how she is."

"Yeah." Harry stood. "I think it's time for me to have a talk with him."

"You're sure this is the right time? I mean, we've had a bit to drink." Ron gestured to the six mugs sitting on the table.

"I'm not that pissed." Harry held the door to the pub open for Ron to pass out before him. "Are you going to be okay with it, if it works out?"

"Thought I made that plain a long time ago." Ron slung an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. "Snape's not my first choice for a brother-in-law, but if he makes you happy, he'll do."

Harry grinned delightedly. "Thanks, mate."

* * *

The long stone corridor leading to Snape's rooms seemed longer than usual, partly because he didn't move as fast as he once had, but mostly due to his trepidation about reaching his destination. Standing outside the door, he wondered again if this was a good idea. Only the thought of months more of being put off had him raising his hand to knock.

The door opened before his fist could even connect. Snape stood in the doorway, dressed alluringly in a long, flowing, black silk dressing gown. Even as tall as he was, the garment reached his ankles. The open V in the front gave Harry a nice view of a surprisingly muscled chest, and it was all he could do not to reach out and run his hands along Snape's bare flesh. He took a deep breath and forced himself past Snape, into the room.

"Well, Mr. Potter, what a dreadfully unexpected surprise." Snape was trying to sneer at him, Harry could tell, but he wasn't quite making it work. "What do you want?"

"You." Harry wasn't going to play games. "The time for talking is now past, Severus." He closed the door and advanced.

Snape glared hard at him, then took a step back. "Do I have anything to say about this?"

"No." Harry put his hands on Snape's shoulders and turned him around so that his back was against the door. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth hard to Snape's.

Closing his eyes, Harry put everything he had, everything he felt, everything he was into the kiss, trying to convey what Snape meant to him. His tongue slid out to taste Snape's mouth. A hint of whisky lingering there provided added flavor to an already flavorful subject. Harry groaned, delving further.

Snape's arms went around him, and his head tipped back slightly toward the door. His mouth opened wider, his tongue sliding out to explore and then retreating again, to tease.

Harry's hands got caught in the silk of the dressing gown, fumbling at first, then finally he pulled the tie free and reached for the naked flesh beneath it. Snape's skin was satin over steel. Harry couldn't get enough of it. He'd waited so long, wanted it so badly.

When Snape started to pull away, as he always did after their good night kisses, Harry was having none of it. "No," he said harshly, pulling Snape forward and manhandling him across the room to his wooden desk. Pressing Snape face down into the papers piled neatly there, Harry didn't bother to take off the dressing gown, he simply lifted the hem, tossing the heavy material up higher on Snape's back.

"If you've got an objection to this," he said, running his palms down Snape's back and over the rise of his buttocks, "Now's the time to voice it." In about thirty seconds, Harry was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stop.

"Accio lubricant." Snape held out his hand as a vial of amber liquid came flying across the room. He passed it to Harry without a word.

"I'll take that as consent." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Until this second, he wasn't sure Snape would allow him to go through with it. He tossed his glasses onto the other end of the desk, in front of Snape, and the world took on an indistinct aura.

"Do that," Snape growled, sounding suddenly impatient. "Get on with it."

Opening the bottle, he dipped two fingers in, coating them thoroughly, then applied them to Snape, pushing in slowly.

"Bloody Hell." Snape breathed sharply. "Have a care, Mr. Potter."

"Given where my fingers are, I'd say it was appropriate for you to call me Harry now." He wiggled his fingers.

And Snape groaned. "I'll take that under consideration."

"Do that." Harry moved his fingers a bit more. "It's been a while for you, hasn't it?"

"You could say that." Snape moved tentatively back against his fingers and sucked in a breath. Not in a good way, either.

There was something about that answer that didn't sit well with Harry. He was forced to consider an alternative possibility. Damn. Snape wasn't going to admit it now, one way or another, but a bit of care wouldn't go amiss. He sighed and started to pull his fingers out.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Snape asked, sounding very annoyed, and more than a little breathless.

"I'm just--"

"I didn't say you could stop." Snape turned to look over his shoulder, scowling at him. "I've been waiting a very long time for this. You will finish it."

"I'm simply slowing down." Harry wasn't going to let Snape bully him into moving too quickly, especially with this, especially with what he suspected.

"Why?" Snape's expression was suspicious, as if he didn't trust Harry, suddenly.

Exasperated, Harry was ready to smack him. "Because it's been a while. I don't want to hurt you, you ungrateful git."

Snape actually smiled at him. "All right. Get back to it."

"Thanks ever so much." Harry promised himself that he was going to make Snape pay for being so difficult, in the most delicious way possible.

Grunting, Snape resumed his previous position over the desk.

"Stand up."

"Why? What now?" Snape straightened up.

"Just this." He slid the dressing gown from Snape's shoulders and took a moment to admire the fine lines of his muscular body. Thin, but not skinny. Harry smiled, running an appreciative hand down his chest. "You're beautiful."

Snape snorted, but couldn't quite suppress a smile. "You eyesight is obviously as deficient as your other mental faculties. I am many things, beautiful is not amongst them."

Harry didn't answer. Leaning up, he kissed Snape again, but before it could go too far, he turned Snape around toward the desk again. This time, he didn't have to push. Snape leaned over of his own volition, his hands gripping the edges, his long legs spread slightly.

For a second, Harry couldn't breathe. Every one of his fantasies had come true.

He shook himself. Well, not _every_ one -- not yet. In fact, if he wanted this one to end properly, he still had work to do. Delicious work. Stepping between Snape's spread thighs, he leaned over, smoothing his hands over Snape's slim hips. Nuzzling high on his back, Harry mouthed each vertebra as he moved down. Snape tasted so good, and Harry had every intention of making a long, slow meal of him.

Snape moaned softly as he nipped at one arse cheek and then the other. Pressing them apart, Harry delved down further, swirling his tongue along the edges, sucking strongly.

Snape babbled, the pleasure making him incoherent. Who would have predicted that, Harry wondered, smiling to himself as he slid his tongue in further, teasing more, eliciting more of those delicious moans.

Fumbling for the vial again, Harry started with one finger and spent a long time working it, alternately sucking and stretching. Finally, he could do no more and he pulled back to prepare himself.

"What?" Snape mumbled menacingly. "Why did you stop?"

"Not stopping," Harry said, shucking off his robe and unzipping his trousers. Not enough time to get undressed now. He'd take care of it later. "Just changing directions."

Snape's long fingers were holding the desk so tightly his knuckles were white. "Finish this, or I shall be forced to hex you."

Laughing, Harry pressed in slowly. "This what you wanted?"

Grunting, Snape froze and breathed out sharply, not in pleasure.

Harry stopped, too. "Severus? Push back against me. It will help."

Snape nodded, and Harry could feel him complying. He inched in a little further and heard Snape gasp again. Disappointed, he started to withdraw.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Give it a moment. It will ease."

"Aren't I supposed to say that?"

"You're far too noble to try and convince me." Snape pushed back against him again, and then sighed. "See? You're too impatient."

"So you've said."

After another couple of minutes, Harry was finally completely sheathed. Closing his eyes, he tried to draw his mind away from the magnificent heat and strength and pleasure of Snape's body. He had to give Snape the chance to adjust or there would be no pleasure in it for either of them. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. "Okay?"

"Proceed."

Harry cautiously moved back a bit, and then in at a different angle. Several times he repeated the move until Snape gasped, and this time, it wasn't with pain.

"Do that again," he ordered. "Now."

"Yes, sir." Harry smiled as he said it, knowing Snape must be snarling. "Ever ready to serve."

"Enough with the back-chat. Just do it."

Harry did. Soon he had Snape muttering incoherently again as waves of pleasure washed over both of them. Snape succumbed first, crying out something that Harry couldn't quite catch, and then he, too, was swept up and over, his climax so intense he wondered for a moment if he were going to survive it.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Harry shifted up and off Snape's back. A small groan came from Snape, but he continued to lie across the desk not moving.

"Sorry," Harry muttered as he did up his trousers.

"Nothing to apologize for," Snape said, slowly straightening his back and standing. He put both hands in the small of his back and moaned. "I take that back. What have you done to me?"

"Nothing you didn't ask for." Harry wondered if Snape was going to have regrets about what happened. He'd better not, Harry decided. Or there would be hell to pay.

"True enough." Snape smiled at him, holding open his arms.

With a sigh of relief, Harry stepped into them, holding him tightly. "God, I've wanted that for so long."

"As much as it pains me to admit it, I did as well."

"Then why did you make us wait so long?" Harry closed his eyes and leaned into Snape, his hand running along all that nice naked skin. "Mmm."

"Are you ever planning to take your clothes off?" Snape sounded somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"I could be convinced." Opening his eyes, Harry grinned at him. "But not until you tell me why we had to wait so long."

Raising Harry's jaw with his fingers under it, Snape looked him right in the eyes. "As I told you at the time, you had to have time to grow up."

Harry shook his head. He'd always felt there was more to it than that. "That's too simplistic. I've been an adult, in every sense of the word, for quite a while now."

"Perhaps." Snape looked away and then shrugged. "I'm going to get into bed." Snape pulled out of their embrace, and walked towards his bedroom, seeming completely at ease with his nudity.

Harry couldn't help admiring the way Snape's muscles moved under his skin, and the slope of his arse, and the fullness of.... Shaking his head, Harry snorted at himself. If he wanted to finish this then he'd better ignore the display no matter how delightful it was. Refusing to move or follow him, Harry tried to glare at Snape. "But what? I think I have a right to know."

"Are you really so stupid that you didn't realize _you_ had to come to _me_? That I could never initiate, never make the first move? No matter how much I might have wanted to?"

Well, it certainly was gratifying to know that Snape had wanted to, clearly a lot sooner than Harry had got to it.

"I had to come to you?" Harry was having a little trouble processing that, but maybe it did make some sense. Somewhere.

Snape nodded. "You were my student. I could not, would not, entice you in anyway."

Harry shot him an exasperated look. "Your very existence had been an enticement to me for too bloody long. I spent most of seventh year daydreaming about what you would look like naked, what you would smell like, what you would taste like." Drawing in a deep breath, Harry felt his body react, a wave of pure lust breaking over him.

The faintest blush appeared on Snape's cheeks for a moment, and he looked both amused and indignant. "It was more than clear you weren't thinking about my assignments. I find it amazing that you passed your NEWTs at all."

"Okay," Harry said. "So why did you put me off when I came to you last month? Why say we needed to get to know each other again?" Harry knew he sounded every bit as annoyed as he felt. "That was a joke. I know you. I have known you."

"We hadn't seen each other in seven years." Snape held up his hand. "No. A handful of meetings, usually under stressful circumstances does not count. I had to be sure."

A thought struck Harry and it wasn't something he was sure he wanted the answer to, but had to ask anyway. "When would you have accepted me?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it." Snape turned away and headed towards the bedroom again. When he got to the doorway, he turned back. "Are you coming to bed?" Was that a note of uncertainty?

No, Harry decided, probably not. "When, Severus?"

Snape glanced at him and shook his head. "I'm not sure. Not before I visited you in hospital. That much I do know."

That wasn't as bad as it might have been. It was still a year ago, though. A year they could have spent together. Damn Snape and his bloody honor.

A glance at Snape standing there in all his pale glory, and he decided that the rest this particular discussion could wait. Unbuckling his belt, Harry pulled it off. "Time for me to get undressed, I think."

With an unlikely leer on his face, Snape shook his head. "Do it in the bedroom, so I might watch you in comfort."

"Yeah?" Harry had to admit, it never occurred to him that Snape might want to watch him undress. "Why?"

"You aren't that stupid, Harry." Snape turned and went through the doorway.

Snape's bedroom was another surprise. Decorated in wood tones and green -- but not Slytherin green, rather a rich forest color -- he had the same heavy wooden furniture common to most rooms in the castle, but his was of slightly better quality. A huge canopied bed dominated one side of the room, a chest of drawers and cupboard the other.

"Well," Snape demanded as soon as he'd crossed the threshold and got into his bed.

"Well, what? Do you expect a strip-tease?"

Snape grinned evilly, and held out his hand. "As you please."

Not going to happen, Harry thought. He stripped quickly and slid into the bed beside Snape.

"I'm disappointed." Snape put his arms around him and pulled him close, leaning in for a deep kiss.

"Another time. I promise." He laid his head on Snape's shoulder.

In a quick move, Snape rolled them over, so that Harry was beneath him, and settled between his legs. Leaning down, Snape kissed him slowly, languidly, with special attention to detail. His tongue slipping into Harry's mouth, he seemed intent on tasting all the recesses.

"Mmmm," Harry murmured when his mouth was free. "Do you want me this time?"

"I've wanted you for far longer than I shall ever admit." Snape's mouth made wet contact with Harry's throat.

Harry groaned, a myriad of sensations flowing through him. "Oh, God."

Snape worked his way down Harry's body with a thoroughness that bordered on compulsion, missing nothing, not overlooking so much as millimeter of skin. Beneath his touch, his mouth, his body, Harry writhed and moaned, and begged.

Finally, Snape showed some mercy and put that evil, talented mouth where Harry most wanted it. Harry's hips bucked up as Snape took him deeply. The ecstasy was simply too intense to bear. Throwing back his head, Harry's hands knotted in the sheets, and he came blindingly hard.

After a few moments, Harry opened his eyes and smiled blearily, still gasping for breath. "Damn," he panted. "That was brilliant."

Snape said nothing, kissing him again and smiling rather smugly.

"What would you like?" Harry asked as he regained his breath.

"Perhaps, the same thing." Snape waved a hand between them.

"My pleasure." Harry bent to his task with the same concentration that Snape had exhibited. The first time had been the fulfillment of all his fantasies, the culmination of all of his dreams over the years. As brilliant and exciting as that had been, he hadn't had the time to explore or indulge.

Now, he could do both. Amazingly responsive to everything, Snape leaned into every touch, every caress as if he'd been starved for it. He moaned and swore, first demanding and then pleading for Harry to hurry up and then for Harry to never stop.

He came beautifully, his head thrown back, his eyes screwed shut, his mouth open on a scream. Harry looked up to see him breathless, and sweaty, and looking quite well satisfied. He crawled up Snape's body and took him in his arms.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, holding each other, their breath calming.

Now that the urgency of the moment was past, and Harry had a moment to think about Snape's unexpected reactions to his ministrations earlier, the question came back to him. He still wasn't one hundred percent sure, but all the indicators pointed in that direction. He reckoned he'd earned the right to ask. "Were you going to tell me?"

Snape let out a long slow sigh. "I wondered if you'd figure that out." At least he wasn't going to pretend he didn't know what Harry was talking about.

"I won't say it was obvious, especially after what you just did, but I did wonder..." Harry trailed off, feeling a blush start and knowing he was being ridiculous to react that way, after all they'd shared. "You didn't, you know, have me."

"I guess that was obvious. I do plan on it, just not until I have a bit more--" Snape paused for a moment. "Practical experience, I guess you would say."

"Whenever you're ready." Harry was happy enough to have Snape in his bed -- or to be in Snape's bed. The particulars didn't matter much. "It's rather surprising, though."

"I haven't had that many lovers. Really only a handful, especially considering my age and unwed status."

"None were--"

"No. Well, there was someone right after school, but it only went as far as--" Snape cleared his throat. "There was only one other boy to whom I was attracted. That was while I was in school. Unfortunately, that particular attraction nearly proved fatal."

Harry didn't have to ask who they were. "You're not gay, then?"

"Did you think I was?" Snape eyed him warily. "Why?"

Shrugging, Harry couldn't find words for why he'd made the assumption. "I guess because of your feelings for me."

Half-expecting a denial from Snape, Harry was pleased when he just smiled. "Be that as it may, with one notable exception, my liaisons have been with women. They have proven considerably less deadly."

Given Snape's experiences, Harry supposed he had to agree.

"Women in general are also more inclined to be interested in a man's intelligence, rather than simply in his looks."

"Are you saying I only want you for your body?" Harry ran his hand down Snape's side, and onto his thigh. "You do know how I feel about you?"

"You really are dense, aren't you." Snape smirked. "However, it wasn't about that. With Miss Randolph, for instance --"

"I really, _really_ ," -- Harry put particular emphasis on the word -- "wish you would not mention her when you're in bed with me."

"Why not? I mentioned you when I was in bed with her."

"You are such a bastard."

Snape gave him an amused look and ran his fingers through Harry's hair. "It's taken you this long to realize that. I knew you weren't very bright, but I don't think I ever fully realized just how stupid you are."

"I've always known it." Harry sighed, leaning into his caress. "You're a complete bastard, but you're my bastard. I love you despite it."

"Or perhaps because of it."

"Don't you have something to say to me?" Harry waited, knowing he must look terribly expectant but not able to help it. He wanted to hear the words.

Looking away, Snape cleared his throat again. "Yes. Well. It should not have escaped even your completely deficient observatory skills that I do feel the same way."

That wasn't quite what Harry had in mind, but given this was Snape, he supposed it was as good as he was going to get. Damn, the man was so contrary. "You're not going to say it, are you?"

As he caressed Harry's face with his fingers, Snape's eyes were soft. "Perhaps for our fiftieth wedding anniversary."

"Is that a proposal?" Before Snape could answer him, Harry leaned up and kissed him quiet. "Never mind, I'm taking it as such."

"You would." At least he sounded amused. He must have meant it.

"I'm not going to let you wiggle out of it, either." Harry smiled happily. "I'm only doing this once. I want a one-year wizard engagement with all the rituals, and then I want big wizard wedding with all the trimmings."

"Are you sure I can't take it back?" Snape groaned. "I thought you didn't like it when people made a fuss over you."

"Quite sure." Harry put a hand on Snape's jaw and met his eyes. "I don't like it when they make a fuss over The Boy Who Lived, or The Boy Who Played Quidditch or any of those other boys, but I like it just fine when my friends celebrate with Harry. And I'm going to love it when they do it with Harry and Severus."

Raising his hand to cover Harry's, Snape nodded. "They may not be so pleased when they find out whom their darling is going to marry."

"Oh, I think they're going to be fine with it. A bunch of them know already."

"You're going to want Weasley as our first witness, aren't you?"

"Of course, who else?" Harry patted Snape's shoulder. "He'll make you a good brother-in-law, I promise."

Turning over, Snape buried his head in the pillow. "I can't bear the thought."

Harry laughed and stole his pillow, throwing it down to the end of the bed. "It will be fine. You'll see."

"Nothing is fine where you are concerned. I'm doomed."

"You've been doomed for a long time."

"Don't I know it." Snape sat up against the headboard, pulling Harry across his lap. "At least there is some compensation."

"Oh, yeah, I'll compensate you good, Severus," Harry threatened, straddling Snape's thighs. Snape did not look at all worried. In fact, for the first time since he'd known Snape, he looked content.

"I'm sure you will."

Harry laughed and kissed him again. "Count on it."

\--finis


End file.
